Harry Potter and the Mysterious Texting Partner
by LoonyLuiny
Summary: Muggle Studies homework gets a little bizarre. A new spell with surprising uses is introduced. Some speculation is had about the teachers. And much, much more is going on in Harry's return to Hogwarts. With the introduction of a mysterious Slytherin, this promises to be an interesting year. Very nearly complete!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Muggle Studies Homework is Actually Pretty Fun

Harry sat, chin in hand, trying not to let his eyes glaze over too obviously as his Muggle Studies professor chattered on about Muggle technology. She was excitedly holding up a cell phone for the class, and demonstrating, with some muttering and several attempts, some of its basic functions, and how they were used in Muggle Society, as an instant and transportable communication device. Harry only tuned in when he heard her giving their homework.

"Now! For your homework, you will be given paired phones, that connect to one other student's phone, a magical connection since, unfortunately, we haven't been able to figure a way to get service here." She sighed, annoyed, but then brightened as she returned to her subject. "But it will be similar enough! So! Grab a phone as you go out the door, and practice with it for one week. I will be checking to make sure you've been using the text feature! Texting is a huge part of muggle society, so please be sure to have at least a daily conversation. It could be very important when trying to get along in the Muggle world without raising suspicion."

Much of the class was rather interested now. They lined up and took a phone each from the basket as they exited their class. There was much muttering, turning of the devices to various angles, and pressing of random buttons, as the students separated into smaller groups and made their way to their next classes or free periods. Obviously they hadn't been paying much attention when the teacher had given her display. Harry joined Ron and Hermione as they made their way to the library.

"Don't worry, Ron! I'll show you how to do it later," Hermione was saying, as Ron stared down at his phone in horror, having pressed the wrong buttons, and accidently changing the language to Chinese. "Just stop pressing buttons! You'll mess up all the settings."

Harry slid his phone into his pocket, deciding to leave it til later. Hermione was the only one of the three who had a cell phone, though she only used it on holidays, she could explain everything to him if he couldn't figure it out himself.

They settled down to their homework. They all had a free period, even Hermione, despite her tendency to cram more subjects into her day than humanly possible. He was rather half-heartedly working on his potions essay when an odd buzzing caught his ear. He frowned. Something had seemed to tickle his leg at the same time. He remembered the phone then, a little embarrassed at his obtuseness. He pulled it out of his pocket. The screen was lit.

One New Message

He tapped the screen to open the message.

'Hello.'

It took him a few moments to tap his reply on the small buttons on the screen. He kept making mistakes and having to backtrack. He settled on a simple response.

'Hello back to you.'

'So this is how Muggles communicate.'

'Apparently.' Harry paused, thinking what to say. 'It's fast. Very convenient.'

'There are wizarding methods just as effective, and easier than these tiny buttons.' The time it took for the reply made Harry smile, imagining his mystery classmate struggling to type the longer sentence.

'So who's this?'

The reply once again took a while.

'Why not see if we can guess?'

'Sounds fun. Girl or guy?'

'That would be telling.'

Harry grinned, intrigued.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Hermione's voice was disapproving. "Did you have to finish the essay already?"

"Not yet. I'll do it later. Besides, I'm doing homework." He held up the cell phone as proof.

"Who'd you get?" Ron was interested.

"Not sure yet. Either of you get a text yet?"

"Not yet." Said Ron.

"We can work on that AFTER you finish your potions essays." Hermione glared at them both, and they bent to their work. A buzzing against his thigh distracted Harry a few minutes later.

'What are you doing?'

'Potions essay. And you?' Harry tapped out.

'Still? I had mine done last night.'

'Well good for you.' Despite the response, Harry found his scowl turning into a smile. This was actually rather fun. The mystery added to it. He had no idea who to picture behind the words on the screen. Of course, it could end up being a disappointment. Probably would, in fact. He actually was really glad he didn't know.

'May I recommend you do the work as soon as possible, so that you can relax?'

'But that would be no fun. The last minute desperation is so very inspiring.'

'If you say so. But here you are doing homework, and here I am outside in the sun with my friends, relaxing.'

Harry glanced around, surveying the others in the library who had been in his Muggle Studies class. So it wasn't on of them, for sure.

'Well I'm going to do that now, too. Screw potions.'

'A bold choice. A hint of rebellion. I believe I am detecting some Gryffindor there?'

'That would be telling.' Harry grinned, slid the phone back into his pocket, and gathered his books.

"Well, I'm not going to waste the nice weather on Potions essays. I'm going to go see if Hagrid's free for tea." Ron stood to join him but Hermione grabbed his robe.

"Ron, you've barely even STARTED! Let Harry be irresponsible if he chooses. I won't have my boyfriend FAILING classes. It would ruin my reputation."

Ron subsided with bad grace, resuming his seat and grumbling all the while. Harry shook his head over his friends' odd relationship as he left the library, book bag slung over one shoulder, and made his way out of the school. Outside, he could see clumps of students studying, playing games, or just enjoying the weather. He saw Dean and Seamus hunched over something, but ignored them. Neville was alone, seated in the shade of a tree, looking stressed, scrawling on an already lengthy roll of parchment. Probably potions, never his best subject. He groaned in annoyance as his path took him near a small cluster of Slytherins, Draco in their midst, his white blonde hair perfect as always, the usual sneer marring his narrow face, with his head on a pretty fifth year's lap. Harry decided to ignore them.

"Off to see the oaf, Potter?" Draco's rather unimaginative taunt made Harry roll his eyes.

"Off to see a friend my father didn't have to buy for me," he retorted, then swept away before Draco could come up with a response.

As he walked back from Hagrid's hut, Harry pulled out his phone again.

'How was your free period? Get much relaxing done?'

'Not as much as I had hoped. I admit, I will be relieved to graduate, or even just for the next holiday. The restrictions of school are beginning to chafe. I would have enjoyed getting in some Quidditch practice, or even just go for a fly.'

'Oh so you play Quidditch. Are you on a team? Or would that be too much a giveaway?'

'It would. What about you? What are your thoughts on Quidditch?'

'I love it, to be honest. I love flying. I love the intensity of the sport. Do you get to fly a lot where you live? On holidays I mean.'

'Yeah, there's a pitch nearby. I can fly whenever I want.'

'I wish. I live in a Muggle area. There's no where to fly, and my family don't really like me to do that sort of thing. So I only really fly when visiting friends.'

'Damn, that's harsh. Why don't they like you flying?'

'Well, to be honest, they don't like magic much in general.'

'Oh. Muggle born then? You're giving a lot away here. That narrows it down a lot.'

'Ha ha! Actually, no. Just the relatives I stay with on holidays. I don't live with my parents.' Harry decided not to mention the reason why. Despite the many losses to Voldemort and his Death Eaters, someone living with Muggles who's parents had died would just be too telling. He wanted to carry the mystery on a while longer.

'Oh. I'm sorry.'

'Don't be. I spend most of the holidays with friends anyway. As much as I can, at least.'

'So your family don't like you doing magic? That's so bizarre.'

'It's annoying. A lot of the time, they lock my broom and text books away just to be SURE I don't use them.'

'How do you get your summer assignments done then?'

'I don't always. Makes it a little rough to start the year, but I catch up fast.'

'Well that's good. It still seems to weird to me. Locking up your stuff? That seems so extreme.'

'You're telling me! One year they decided to be extra sure I couldn't do anything even vaguely magic related and locked me in my room. Bars on the window and everything. It was ridiculous.'

'WHAT?! They locked you up? That's insane! For the whole summer?!'

'They installed a cat flap to deliver my meals. Not even joking. But it wasn't the whole summer. Some friends came for me.'

'Merlin…and I think I had it rough when my family expect me to attend all these events and functions every holiday. Seriously dude…it is dude, right? Your family sounds literally insane. You shouldn't stay with them anymore.'

'Sorry. I didn't mean to be depressing. To be honest, it's funny to me now. And I'll graduate in another year. It won't matter then. I'll probably never see them again after that.'

'I should hope not.'

'Well, see you at dinner, even if we won't know it. Ha ha.' Harry put his phone away and made his way back to the castle, joining Hermione and Ron at the table in the Great Hall. They were studiously ignoring each other, and Ginny, seated beside Hermione, shot Harry an amused glance when he sat. He lifted his eyebrows in a question, and she nodded her head toward Hermione, lifting her eyebrows in a meaningful glance.

"I guess the essays didn't go well?"

Hermione made a "Hrmph" noise and focused on her food. Harry turned to Ron, who's expression was somewhere between exasperated and piteous. Harry heard Ron's phone buzz against the seat. Ron didn't move to pull it out, but the furious glare Hermione shot at him gave Harry a clue as to what the problem between them might be.

"Alright, who'd you get then?"

Ron's ears went red. "Uh…Lavender…Brown."

Hermione snorted, but didn't look up from her meal. Some giggling further down the table between several of their classmates was followed by another buzz from Ron's phone.

"Well, aren't you going to answer?" Hermione's voice was cold. "It's only the fifth message. She seems so eager for your response."

Ron shot Harry a pleading look. Harry just shrugged. "It's only homework, mate. Just say something polite and leave it at that." He turned to Hermione. "So who'd you get?"

Her scowl deepened. "Goyle."

Harry let out a burst of laughter. "Sorry Hermione. But that's good. The conversation must be doing REALLY well."

"I'm not even sure what he's saying half the time, he doesn't even bother to correct his spelling errors."

"What about you, Harry?" Ron asked, eager to keep the conversation going now that Hermione was at least talking.

"Still a mystery. It's kinda fun that way."

As if on cue, his own phone buzzed. Ron looked over his shoulder as he read it, and he had the curious desire to pull away and shield the screen from his gaze. Odd, that. He felt possessive of his mystery friend. He resisted the urge to pull away and they read it together.

'Have a look at Trelawney.'

Harry and Ron both looked at the Head table, Trelawney was there. As they watched, her eyes slowly closed, and she listed to one side, before quickly jerking back upright. As they watched, her eyes closed again, and she listed, until her head came to a rest…on Severus Snape's shoulder. Ron snorted, barely restraining his laughter. Harry typed back.

'Is she drunk? I swear she's drunk. See Snape's face?'

'Merlin. He looks as though he's been turned to stone just after smelling something really foul.'

'He always looks like that, though. Maybe he's secretly enjoying it.'

'Ha ha! A secret romance between Snape and Trelawney? Oh no. Now I'm imagining it. Oh Merlin, I need to go scrub my brain now.'

Harry burst into laughter, gaining a few looks from his tablemates.

"What'd they say?" Ron leaned over to read Harry's conversation. This time Harry did pull away.

"Have your own conversation." The sour faces he got from both of his friends reminded him who that conversation would be with, and he smiled sheepishly at them, before returning to his texting.

'That mental image is horrible. I am sure it will be in my nightmares tonight.'

'Ugh. The more I try not to think about it, the more my perverse brain decides to embellish it. I just imaged Trelawney in lingerie.'

'Oh no. Now that's in my head too. THANKS A LOT MATE!' Harry stared ahead of himself for a moment, a horrified look growing over his face, before returning to type another message. 'I JUST IMAGINED SNAPE IN LINGERIE! I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU THIS!'

The response was quick. 'HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OH NOOOOO! I'm just going to go cast Scourgify on my brain for the next hour, don't mind me.'

Harry grinned, and was still grinning when he crawled into bed that night. It felt good to have such a lighthearted and humorous conversations, not fraught with the tension of his best friends in their new relationship, or any of the other baggage of his current friendships. Obviously, he knew the person. He knew everyone in his year. But he also hadn't made a new friend in a long while because of that, and this at least felt like a new friend.

He woke in the morning to the buzzing.

'This is awful. I couldn't even look Snape in the eye in the common room this morning. I just kept imagining him and Trelawney in lingerie and just…argh…' Harry burst out laughing, gaining him some muttered complaints from his dorm mates. Then he had a realization. It was with both a sinking feeling and a strange thrill of excitement.

'AHA! So you are a Slytherin then!'

It was literally the only way he would ever be able to have a friendly conversation with a Slytherin, and that made it strangely exciting and forbidden.

'Damn. It appears I have been caught out. Not very Slytherin of me. Especially by a Gryffindor.'

'Good guess. How'd you know?'

'I didn't. Now I do. I feel some sense of my Slytherin dignity returning.' Harry realized he was grinning again, and felt a little embarrassed. Not wanting to dwell too much on the topic of houses for fear some of the inter-house rivalry would mar the easy conversation, he decided to change the subject, typing as he sat up and swung his legs out of the bed.

'Sleep well, then? Or did you have the same disturbing dreams I had?'

'None, thankfully. Do tell about the dreams, though. It will make me feel less alone in my embarrassment about facing Snape.'

'Just Trelawney…in lingerie…as an erotic dancer. But in the most Trelawney way possible. The entire Hogwarts staff was there, they seemed to be really enjoying it. Dumbledore kept winking at me.'

'Ahahhahaha I can imagine it. I just shuddered visibly. My friends are staring at me, wondering what I'm texting about.'

'It was definitely terrible. I think I'd actually rather Snape had been in the lingerie than Trelawney. That was just scary.'

'Me too. Are you a girl, then, after all? I was getting distinct masculine vibes here.' Harry blushed.

'I didn't mean it that way!' he typed quickly. 'I'm a bloke, thank you very much. So you'd like to see Snape in lingerie?'

'Rather him than Trelawney. Ok. New question. Which teacher in Hogwarts would you most and least want to see in lingerie.'

Harry was fairly sure now it was a girl, and felt oddly disappointed, though he couldn't quite pin it on why. Nevertheless, he typed his response.

'Hm. Now that's a hard one. Least, probably Hagrid. All that hair…just wrong. Most…can we choose past professors? Because none of the current ones are even remotely sexy.'

'No. Current ones only. Choooose!'

'Well…damn. Snape, then, because I've already visualized him enough, it hardly makes a difference. At least he's fit, and not old and wrinkly.'

'Ha ha ha! You kill me. Honestly though, I would choose the same. It wouldn't do much for me, but wouldn't be as scarring as, say…Dumbledore.'

Harry shuddered.

'Now that just makes me uncomfortable. I feel like he would really enjoy it. I think I'll switch from Hagrid.'

'Now imagine him AND Hagrid…'

'NO MORE! Ahhhh. Seriously. You Slytherins are fucked up!'

'What can I say? I'm good with my words. I can titillate, amuse, or scar you for life in one simple phrase!'

'Ok, I'm too curious now. You already know I'm a bloke. Are you a girl?'

'No.'

'I didn't think so,' Harry was relieved. 'Though the part about Snape…'

'Yeah yeah. Let's not go there.'

Harry felt odd, now. He had expected to feel relieved that the easy conversation was with a guy, so he could focus on just having a good friendship, at least until they knew he was Harry Potter, but instead felt a fluttering that he had previously only associated with the girls he'd had a crush on. He put his phone down, suddenly stunned by a revelation.

He had a crush on his mystery text partner.

Thank you for reading! I honestly have no idea how to format these things properly, I'm still new to using the site, so if anyone has suggestions or advice for me both in how I publish and format, and also on the story itself, I would be very happy to receive it!

Yours,

Loony Luiny


	2. Chapter 2

Well that rating rose fast. Warnings for a bit of dirty language and sexual references.

Chapter 2: Distractions and What They Lead To

"Oy! Harry! You're going to be late for breakfast!"

"Go on without me, Ron. Save me a seat." Harry barely noticed as his dorm mates left. He held the phone in his hand. Several things sliding into place in his thoughts. Nobody had ever accused Harry of being an exceptionally self-aware person. Fighting for survival most of your life didn't leave much time for self-reflection, but as he began to scroll through the messages, paying considerably more attention this time to the subtler undercurrent of emotion as he read. Was he really that starved for normalcy? For basic friendship and affection? He was getting emotional about words on a screen. He turned off the screen, and lay back on his bed, staring up at the hangings. A buzz caught his attention.

'I don't know if I can even eat. This is too much.'

'What is? Are you okay?' Harry's heart began to thud, and a sick feeling grew in his chest. Had he done something wrong?

'You haven't looked at the head table yet?'

'No. I'm running late.' He began to throw his clothes on, relief flooding him, and thoroughly distracting him from his morning revelation.

'Hagrid is sitting on the other side of Trelawney. She's literally sitting between Hagrid and Snape. And I swear she is already tipsy. My friends keep asking me what's wrong.'

'ha ha! What are you telling them?' Harry didn't notice the grin on his face as he gathered his belongings and made his way through the nearly empty common room.

'Nothing, obviously. This is our little secret. Ha ha'

Harry felt a little thrill of pleasure at the words. 'Some secret. I never knew you Slytherins were this-' He stopped typing. What was he going to say? Perverted? Hilarious? Human and approachable? 'Imaginative. You've ruined most of my teachers for me now. Thanks a lot, mate.'

'My pleasure.'

Harry scowled when he felt another little thrill at the words "My pleasure". Really, now this was just getting sad. Before he could respond, another text came in.

'Can you imagine what they would say if they knew how we have been speaking about them?'

'Snape, especially.' Harry was both amused and horrified at the thought.

'I'm actually curious about Trelawney. There doesn't seem to be much going on behind those glasses. Would she just cry and feel insulted? Blush?'

'You are putting a lot of thought into this.'

'Maybe it would give her ideas.'

Harry burst out into laughter. He was still grinning when he neared the Great Hall to see that students were already bustling out the doors. An unexpectedly shoulder slamming against him sent him stumbling, almost to the floor. A low laugh and Draco Malfoy's sneering "Watch where you're going, Potter" nearly ruined his good mood. He caught his balance and glared after him, but there were too many students between them now for him to retaliate. He made his way to his table in bad grace, scowling.

"What's eating you, mate?" Ron asked. Hermione was nowhere in sight, so Harry assumed they hadn't made up yet. Ron was nearly finished eating, obviously just killing time until Harry put in an appearance. Harry sat and ate quickly.

"Malfoy, who else," he mumbled between bites. Ron scowled.

"Yeah, he'd ruin anyone's morning."

"Hermione still mad at you?"

"Yeah." Ron looked glum. "And Lavender's sent about a million texts already this morning. Hermione just keeps glaring at me. I tried to get someone to switch but nobody wants to."

"Not even Hermione?"

"No. She said she'd rather talk to Goyle."

"She MUST be mad."

Their first class was Transfiguration with McGonagall. It was a rather complex lesson, preparing them for their N.E.W.T.s. The diagram on the chalkboard was completely confusing to Harry. Hermione had raised her hand to ask for clarification on several points already, so he knew it wasn't just him, or his distracted state. His phone buzzed. McGonagall, wand pointed at one particular part of the diagram, stopped. She turned to the class.

"All those of you in Muggle Studies will kindly silence your phones or keep them in your dormitories during class hours. I understand that it is homework, but you will kindly not bring distractions to class. I need not remind you that Transfiguration can be dangerous. Anyone caught using a cell phone during class will have it confiscated and serve a detention."

Harry had to have Hermione help him figure out how to turn the thing on silent. He saw quite a few of the others doing the same. He didn't fail to notice Draco Malfoy's smirk at him, enjoying him getting into trouble, the git.

As soon as the class ended, he pulled out his phone. He'd barely paid attention, focusing instead on the waiting message in his pocket. It really was a terrible distraction. He really understood why the Muggles tended to walk around with the things glued to their noses.

'I'm bored. Entertain me.'

'You seriously texted me in the middle of class for THAT?'

'What can I say? I have a short attention span.'

'You nearly got me detention.'

'Ha! Seriously? My class was threatened with the same. The teachers already dislike these phones. I suspect our Muggle Studies prof is in for it in the staff room.'

'Binns won't care. Just keep your phone on silent if you have class with him and he won't even notice.'

'A good recommendation. I might actual forego my usual nap then, in favour of talking to you.'

Harry once again felt the thudding of his heart, and a warmth flooding through him. 'I'll do the same then, when I can.' He paused, and, feeling greatly daring, continued. 'I really enjoy talking to you.'

He waited, heart in mouth, for the reply. It seemed to take a long, long time.

'Me too.'

He was walking on air all the way to his next class, and he thought that even another run in with Malfoy wouldn't have been able to dampen his spirits.

His good mood carried on for the rest of the morning. He caught himself whistling as he walked between classes, and ate his lunch with gusto, eyeing the head table for anything humorous he could use as an excuse to text his mystery partner. A wide grin stretched across his face when he saw Dumbledore standing beside Hagrid, speaking into his ear.

'Looks like they are planning a lingerie shopping trip.' He typed. It wasn't all that witty, and kind of a stretch, but the reply came soon enough.

'I think Dumbledore would go with something blue with a lot of sequins.'

'Ha! That would be his style. I don't know why, but I'm pretty sure I see Hagrid in red lace. And it would be way too small, because I really don't think they make lingerie in his size.'

'I really don't WANT to see Hagrid in red, but now I do too. I'm beginning to think you might actually be getting off on this.'

Harry blushed, but found himself chuckling. He had his mystery texter's humour down pretty well by now. 'You started it, and most of the ideas came from you. I can't help it if your Slytherin perversion is rubbing off on me.'

'Hey now. I'm not rubbing anything on you. And I'll have you know my perversions have nothing to do with teachers.'

'Oh so you do have perversions, then?'

'Well…I wouldn't use that word for it. But doesn't everyone?'

The conversation had taken a distinct turn. And Harry couldn't say he minded it, though he felt that his flushed, excited condition was probably all too noticeable to his table mates. He decided to wait until lunch was over before continuing the conversation.

He was thinking over his response as he left the great hall. He saw Draco and his friends and prepared for them to say something obnoxious, but they didn't even notice him.

Pansy Parkinson's shrill voice caught his ear as they swept past. "Oh come on, Draco! Tell us! You can't keep.." The rest of her words were lost as a group of students came between them.

He turned back to his phone. 'I don't think I have any perversions.'

'Kinks, then? Fantasies?'

'You are seriously asking me about my kinks?'

He was in class then, and still had his phone silenced from the morning. He didn't have a chance to check for a response. He was loath to pull out his phone during the dinner meal, in case someone looked over his shoulder, so he waited until he was back in the relative safety of his dorm room. He removed his robes and threw himself on his bed, and opened the phone.

Two New Messages

He grinned.

The first message said 'What? Shy? I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave and bold.' The second one, which the time stamp showed had been sent only a few minutes ago read 'Sorry. I didn't mean to overstep.'

The apology made Harry feel a little giddy. A Slytherin apologizing to him was also quite hilarious, but he wasn't going to be telling anyone.

Ron sat down on the edge of his bed. "Texting again? You really are dedicated to your homework."

Harry tried to keep his face straight, but Ron wasn't fooled.

"You found out who it is! It's a girl, isn't it?!" Ron crowed, delighted. "I knew it!"

Harry flushed, and glared at Ron.

"Who is it, Harry? Tell us!" Seamus joined in.

"No. I don't know."

"Oh come onnnn, Harry." Ron wheedled. We're your friends."

Harry just shook his head. "No. Leave it alone."

"Well. Only one thing for it." Seamus dived for Harry, shouting at Ron. "Grab the phone."

Harry leapt to his feet, wand out, face red with anger now. "I said leave it!"

Seamus and Ron froze.

"We were only, joking, Harry." Ron sounded put out. Harry ignored him, sliding back onto his bed and snapping his hangings shut with a flick of his wand. He cast a ward to both silence his friends and keep them from bothering him.

'No, I'm not offended at all. Just didn't exactly want to reply with people around. This isn't exactly a conversation for the public eye.' Harry had certainly had enough of that kind of scrutiny.

'Ah, so spill, then. Tell me your deepest, darkest desires.'

'I will if you will.'

'Certainly. That would be only fair.'

Harry's heart was racing now, but he couldn't think what to type. His mind seemed frozen.

'You first.' He hedged. 'It was your idea after all.'

'Alright. We can take it in turns. I'll tell a kink or fantasy, and then you can.'

'Seems fair.' Harry decided right then and there that he would absolutely never reveal his identity to his texting partner. He felt a sudden freedom rush through him. He could say anything. Things he would never normally admit to anyone. Then, he had a thought. 'Wait. What if the professor reads the messages?'

'Just remember to delete them before you hand it in.'

'How do you do that?'

'Top right hand. The three little dots. Then press the little trash can.'

'You're pretty good at this.'

'I figured it out right away. Necessity. I delete the messages every night before bed, just in case. I am in a dorm full of Slytherins after all. They pry.'

'In that case, if you are going first, let's hear it.'

The reply took a long time, and Harry barely breathed. When the messaged flashed, he had to put the phone down for a moment and take a deep breath. He was glad he'd closed the curtains.

'Doing it on Snape's desk.'

Harry burst out laughing, now also glad he'd cast the privacy charm.

'Well that sounds intimidating. What if he caught you?'

'I'd tell him to join in or bugger off.'

'Wow. Just…wow. I don't even know what to say to that. Do you not value your life at all? And they say Gryffindors are the reckless ones.'

'It IS a fantasy for a reason. Doesn't mean I'd actually do it. Your turn.'

Harry thought a moment.

'Since we are talking public or semi-public places, getting a blow job under a desk in the library, while everything thinks I'm doing homework, and having to pretend to be normal.'

'Damn. That is a really good one. I think I'm going to have to steal that one.'

'Your turn again.'

'Bondage. Perhaps it's cliché. But the giving up and taking of control. Not something I would do with just anyone, of course.'

'Of course. I would imagine that needs some trust.'

'Yes. I don't trust easily. Slytherin and all that. So I don't often get the chance to indulge.'

'I've never tried it, so I wouldn't know.'

'Really? Gryffindors don't sound very adventurous in bed.'

Harry was a little offended. 'Some of us are.'

'Oh really? Well, your turn then. Prove me wrong.'

Harry thought for a long while. Nothing was coming to mind, and he felt just a little embarrassed about that. It had to be something good.

'Alright. Meeting you, but not knowing who you are. The mystery of that…I have to admit I find it exciting.' Harry dropped his phone to the blanket, shocked that he had dared to hit 'send'. He felt hot and cold in turns as he waited for a response, hoping desperately that he hadn't ruined everything, and running over potential responses in his mind.

His phone screen lit up.

"That is pretty exciting. I think I'm stealing that one, too.

Harry gulped.

I had to look up lists of kinks and fantasies for this to remind myself. I just couldn't quite imagine what this version of Harry and…uh…Mystery Texting Partner would fantasize about. It think it fell into place rather nicely.

I'm having a LOT of fun writing this, so though I am keeping the chapters short, I will post at LEAST once a week unless something comes up, but possible even every day. I have no real idea where it's going, aside from one major scene later on, so I'm as excited as I hope you are about what these two crazy kids will do next.

Also, in case you hadn't noticed yet, I'm sort of just not bothering with any of the actual plot from the books. I'm just focusing on the characters, and this little bit of non-angsty fun (though there may just be a bit of angst at some point. It IS Harry after all), so don't expect me to keep to the books in this one.

I also apologize in advance for any errors and inconsistencies. I do not currently have a beta, or a lot of free time, so the edits are quick and dirty.

Also, the smut will probably only increase from this point on. You have been warned!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Detention, Potter!

Harry woke and checked his phone. His heart went from stuck in his throat to plummeting down into the pit of his stomach. No texts. He'd already gotten used to starting his day that way. He started to type a message, but it all sounds forced and trite, so finally he gave up, put his phone away, and was actually ready in time to go down to breakfast with Ron. Not that Ron was talking to him aside from one word answers to Harry's questions. He was obviously offended that Harry wasn't telling him about his conversation partner, but Harry figured he was entitled to some privacy after all the shit he'd been through in that past years…or, well, his entire life, really. Even from his best friends. If they didn't like it, fine. That was their problem.

The grim start to his day was made all the grimmer by running into Draco and his Slytherin cronies almost immediately. Draco's sneer was particularly patronizing, and he wasn't even subtle about shoving against Harry as they passed. This time, Harry had had enough. He felt Ron reaching out to hold him back, but he had already lashed out, shoving both his hands into Draco's shoulders and slamming him into the stone wall. Draco was taller, but he fell back easily, his eyes going wide.

"What the fuck is your problem, Malfoy?

Draco's eyes narrowed, his lips curled into a sneer, he opened his mouth.

"Fighting in the halls! Detention Mr. Potter! Mr. Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall was striding toward them, her lips compressed into a thin, angry line. Her grasp was surprisingly painful as she took him from the shoulder and yanked him away from Draco. She glared between them. "This has gone on long enough. If you cannot even make it through the hallways without getting into a physical fight…" She let that thought trail off, and the look she gave Harry made him feel immediately guilty.

"Sorry, Professor." He muttered, and dropped his gaze. Draco gave a little nod, and echoed the apology. She looked a little mollified by their apparent capitulations. "Well then, see me after dinner. You will spend your evening on your homework in my office. If you have no assignments, I will find something for you to do." She swept away, pulling Draco after her a short distance, to be assured of his separation from Harry.

The curl of his lip and the coldness in his eyes when he threw a glance over his shoulder back at Harry as he walked away told him everything he needed to know about the sincerity of that apology.

The day did not improve from there. He checked his phone between every class, he checked his phone DURING class and almost got caught several times by the teachers, who had by now universally banned cell phone use in class.

At noon in the Great Hall, Harry tried once again to type a message, but felt his face grow hot. He started to type 'Good morni-", realized it wasn't even morning anymore, and closed his phone, feeling like an idiot and resolving not to look at his phone again until the end of the day. A glance around both his own and the other tables showed a few pockets of texters. He saw Draco Malfoy and his friends with their phones out, laughing together, probably mocking their texting partners. Draco saw Harry watching and sneered, then mouthed something Harry didn't catch, but was undoubtedly offensive. He showed Malfoy his middle finger and turned his attention back to his friends. Ron and Hermione were still on the outs, and Ron had actually texted Lavender back several times during the meal, followed shortly each time by a spate of giggles from the Lavender Brown section of the table. Harry didn't know what Ron was playing at. If he was trying to make Hermione jealous enough to stop being angry with him, he obviously didn't know her as well as he thought. If he was thinking he might as well be hanged for a dragon as for an egg…that was even more stupid. Probably, he was just angry, and trying to hurt Hermione. At times like this he wished his friends had never gotten together in the first place.

He toyed listlessly with his meal, wondering why it was the simple lack of a text could have him in this state, when a few days ago he hadn't even used a cell phone before in his life! Besides, there were many reasons why they may not be texting him. Perhaps they'd damaged their phone! Or lost it! Or slept in and forgotten it in their dorm. Really, there were so many reasons.

He did a better job of resisting checking his phone for the next class, but by the following he could think of nothing but, and was feeling extremely foolish because of it. In fact, he was now almost glad to have detention, at least a McGonagall detention, because his lax attention was putting him far too behind in his lessons today. After dinner, Harry went straight to the designated classroom. Neither McGonagall nor Malfoy had arrived yet, so he took out his unfinished potions essay and tried to turn his attention there. He had nearly finished it by the time Malfoy arrived, right on time, to the minute, followed directly behind by Professor McGonagall. She closed the door behind her and, noticing that Harry had already begun his schoolwork and Draco was already getting out his books, only nodded at them and took her own place at her desk, pulling forward a stack of essays to grade. It progressed in silence for a while, only the occasional rustle of paper or the sound of a quill scratching across parchment breaking the studious silence. Harry glanced up once to see Draco tapping away at his phone before setting it down again, face down on his desk, and remembered his own, and his momentarily studious mindset fled.

He glanced over at Draco again, and this time Draco caught him, stared at him for a moment and then looked back down at his work with a curl of his lip. Harry glared at him uselessly for a moment, then turned back again to his work. But he couldn't focus, now. He kept glancing over each time he caught Malfoy's movement, picking up his phone, in his peripheral vision. He noted, too, the way he set it down face down each time. It somehow seemed a most Slytherin way to use a cell phone, hiding the screen from a casual view. He'd probably figured out the password protection, too, which Harry hadn't even bothered to try, deciding instead to just make sure he kept his phone close to him at all times.

Finally, when he realized he'd not added so much half an inch to his potions essay, Harry gave up and pulled out his phone. His heart leapt when he saw that yes, there was a message. He took a moment to take a deep breath to settle his nerves, with little effect, before tapping the message.

'Would you really like to meet? If we could manage to remain anonymous to each other?'

Heat flooded Harry, and he felt that both McGonagall and Draco must be able to feel it, too. A quick glance up showed him that no, they were both bent over their tasks. He turned back to the phone, willing his racing heartbeat to slow, and trying not to feel like too much of an idiot for his overly strong responses to a simple TEXT! Merlin, if he ever found out who the person actually was, he was definitely going to be disappointed. Not to mention embarrassed.

'Yes. But I don't see how. Is there some kind of spell or potion I don't know about? Or were you thinking along the lines of wearing masks? Because that works in books but I can't imagine that working in real life.'

He followed Malfoy's example and placed his phone face down beside his essay, and tried to read a few paragraphs back to figure out exactly where he'd been going with it. Something about phoenix feathers? No…that couldn't be right. He frowned, tapping the feathered end of his quill against his nose. Absently, he picked up his phone, and saw another message notification. He grinned, his enjoyment of the day now fully returned, and opened the message.

'Of course there are spells. And potions, too. To change appearance, to confuse the eye, and ear, to trick you into not recognizing the person, even though neither of your appearances change, invisibility spells, camouflage spells, really it's only a matter of choosing which manner you wish to disguise yourself from being recognized.'

'You've put a lot of thought into this.'

This time, he didn't even try to focus on his essay while awaiting the next text. It was satisfying prompt.

'I simply know a lot about such things. And you would too if you didn't treat homework as a last minute panicked obligation. You realized the point of school is to LEARN, right? It's not a punishment.'

Harry grinned, almost laughing aloud before he caught himself. He couldn't help but hear that one in Hermione's voice, the bossy tone she still retained from the very first time they met her, though usually not so grating anymore.

'You have a point. Alright. So, say we try one of these spells. That would be easier than getting ahold of the proper potion I guess? Then what? We arrange a rendezvous?'

'My my my. What a naughty little Gryffindor you are. A rendezvous you say? Why that's almost like a tryst. And anonymous, too. I take back at least SOME of what I said about your house.'

Harry felt his face go hot, and quickly glanced around the room to make sure no one else was watching him, he felt his emotions must be blazoned across his face like a neon sign. But no, Professor McGonagall was working her way through the stack of essays, and Draco was frowning down at his own homework, completely focused on that, and not Harry. He turned back to his phone.

'I didn't mean it that way. I don't take back anything I said about you Slytherins. Dirty, dirty minds, the lot of you.'

'Nonsense. You want to anonymously meet the strange bloke you've been texting with. You can't convince me that you only have pure intentions.'

'Alright. Let's say I don't. Let's say we met. What then? What would happen?'

'Hmmmmm. So many ideas. But then, if I tell you one, you'll just call me a dirty minded Slytherin again and I'm tired of being insulted.'

'Oh come on. You have me curious. Please?'

'Oh begging now, are we?'

'…no…'

'Hmmm. I think I liked you begging. Do it again.'

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair, glad his school robes hid the evidence of just how excited this conversation was making him. Why did that excite him?! He was getting positively Slytherin by association here. Ah, well. It wasn't like anyone would ever know. That strange feeling of freedom, as though he were flying without the aid of a broom, came over him, and, grinning, and with a feeling of power despite the words he was typing, responded:

'Ok. On my knees before you, I beg you to tell me what ideas you have about us meeting. Please.'

'Say sorry for all the aspersion you've cast on my house.'

'Sorry. For calling Slytherins dirty minded, perverted sluts.'

'That was cheeky. A little too cheeky. But since I, theoretically, have you on your knees…perhaps you could make it up to me in other ways?'

It took Harry a moment to do anything other than stare at the screen. There it was. No evasions, no casual flirting around the point, nothing that could be passed off as just really oddly sexually themed conversation. It was a direct come on. He set the phone down for a moment, staring at the screen. The former excitement had suddenly been replaced by something like terror, the former free-flying euphoria replaced by a sudden drop into a deep chasm. Because with the casting aside of whatever illusions he'd been hiding behind, a rather large realization had just hit him.

Harry was into guys.

All the previous little emotions he'd been having, that moment of disappointment when he'd thought it was a girl, how the thrill had increased when his male identity was confirmed. Just how much more excited he was about this whole conversation than he'd been about any of the girls he'd had crushes on in the past. He'd thought he was just a little preoccupied by the whole "Voldemort, and quite a few other people, creatures, and even things, are trying to murder me on a regular basis" thing. But really, now that he had something to compare it to, his previous feelings towards girls seemed rather flat, now. He thought of the guys he knew. Hm. There was his dormmates. Not exactly an inspiring lot. Ron was his best friend and may as well be his brother. Neville, well…he'd certainly improved in looks from his first year but he was still, well…Neville. Seamus…nah. Dean…hm. His mind HAD immediately pictured Dean shirtless. He had quite a nice body, the sort that came with many hours of dedicated Quidditch practice, and he'd been a loyal and supportive friend when many others hadn't. Still, he couldn't imagine doing anything more than look.

What about the other guys he knew? Fred and George? Again, definitely attractive, but he couldn't really picture actually…DOING anything. While he was on the subject of Weasleys, as awkward as that may be what with them being family…Percy was about as appealing as an ice cold shower on a cold winter night. Bill…wow. Okay. That was a reaction. Shit.

Harry stared down at his essay, not even seeing. His mind spinning. His body had DEFINITELY reacted to the mental images he'd conjured. And also, he had realized a few things about his past interactions with Bill Weasley. He'd had a bit of a hero-worship thing of course. Who wouldn't? Bill was cool! But when had it turned into a crush? Apparently longer than Harry had realized, now that he analyzed his previous emotions with new insight. Wow. He really was dense. He turned his mind back to those within the school, running through a list of Gryffindor fifth, sixth, and seventh year girls and boys, focusing on the more attractive ones, paying attention to his body's response. Nothing, really. Oh, he'd noticed more than he realized. But nothing that truly excited now that he knew what that was supposed to really feel like. He moved on to Hufflepuff, then Ravenclaw. Okay there were definitely a few attractive guys in Ravenclaw. That should be filed away for future reference…or fodder for the imagination. Now…Slytherin. His feelings here were complex. Not only for the house's notoriety when it came to the Dark Arts and connections with Voldemort, but for his own personal enmities. Seeing the Slytherins in a different light was weird, and strangely humanizing. He'd never even considered it. Zabini was definitely hot. Hot and with that dark, dangerous edge that was really quite sexy, now that Harry was paying proper attention. He was even a candidate for the Mysterious Texting Partner. Maybe that wouldn't be TOO bad. Hm. Crabbe and Goyle he didn't even bother to dwell on. About as erotic to picture as a couple of slugs mating. Who else was there? Theodore Nott? Miles Bletchley? Terence Higgs? None inspiring. He glanced over at the white blonde head bent over his homework, trying to look past his aversion. It was no good. When he looked at Draco Malfoy, all he felt was a simmering anger and disgust.

Well, well, well. It seems short and sweet is the name of the game for this fic. It means I update sooner, though, so perhaps that's just as well.

Thank you so much to those of you who have taken the time to leave reviews, favourite, and follow this story! It means a lot to me and makes me so excited to come back to it. Do please continue. I want to hear all your thoughts and impressions! And, since I now know exactly where this is headed, tell me what your guesses are! I want to see if any little hints I've left have been obvious!

Once again, I apologize for any errors in grammar, spelling, plot consistency, etc. I am hopelessly impatient when re-reading things I have written, and do not have a beta. Please point out my errors to me so that I may correct them if they are important, or simply sheepishly apologize for them.

Yours,

Loony Luiny


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Broderick the Batty

"Wool-gathering, Potter?" Draco's mocking voice cut through Harry's thoughts. "Or did you finally use up your last brain cell?"

Harry snapped out of his reverie, and stared at the blonde wizard blankly for a moment, before flushing red and turning his attention back to his work. For once, he couldn't think of a comeback, he was so distracted. He tried to do his homework for the rest of detention, with limited success, glancing over at Draco at frequent intervals to see that he looked at his phone every phone minutes, frowning. Whoever he'd been texting with had obviously stopped replying. The thought made Harry a little happier. At least he wasn't the only one having complications with the Muggle Studies homework.

When the detention finally ended, Harry packed up his schoolwork with relief and left quickly, before Malfoy could follow him out of the classroom. He was in no mood for more taunting right now. He had to figure out his reply. He decided not to go back to his dormitory. He didn't want to face anyone else right now. He had to think, he had to focus. He needed the Room of Requirement.

Thankfully, there was nobody around, though it was nearly curfew, and when the door appeared before Harry, he opened it to see a simple, small room, with a low, comfortably overstuffed and somewhat ratty couch, a stack of magazines on a short table, and a gently crackling fireplace. He dropped his bag to the floor and threw himself down onto the couch with relief. He pulled out his phone and read over the last few messages.

'Ok. On my knees before you, I beg you to tell me what ideas you have about us meeting. Please.'

'Say sorry for all the aspersion you've cast on my house.'

'Sorry. For calling Slytherins dirty minded, perverted sluts.'

'That was cheeky. A little too cheeky. But since I, theoretically, have you on your knees…perhaps you could make it up to me in other ways?'

He dropped his head back to rest on the arm of the couch.

"What am I doing?"

"What do you want to do?"

Harry sat bolt upright with a start, eyes wild, already reaching for his wand.

"Who's there?"

A chuckle directed his attention to the portrait on the wall. He hadn't noticed it when he came in. A short, balding wizard with a round, rosy face, and old-fashioned robes was grinning at him, eyes twinkling.

"It is only me! Broderick the Batty. Though my friends call me Roddy!"

"Er…yeah. I'm Harry."

The wizard looked around him. "I must say, I'm surprised to find myself here. Though it does feel good to be needed."

"Needed…" Harry echoed, lamely.

"It's the Room of Requirement, my boy! What do you think I'm here for, decoration?"

"I just needed somewhere to think!"

"And that's going well for you, then? The thinking?"

Harry sat down again. He might as well get advice. The Room of Requirement hadn't failed him before.

"Yes. Sort of. Maybe not. I just don't know what to do!" He ended in frustration. And he launched into the story, starting with the homework assignment, and ending, though he blushed furiously to tell it, with the last message about being on his knees, though there were a few extra minutes taken up in explaining the concept of texting and cell phones to the portrait.

"And I don't know what to do!" He nearly wailed. "I want to reply. It's…I'm enjoying this more than I have anything in ages! But it's going to go wrong. He's a bloke! He's a _Slytherin_! This is going to end so, so badly. And what if everyone finds out? Can you imagine the articles in the Daily Prophet?! And what if he finds out I'm Harry Potter? All the Slytherins hate me! He'll probably be disgusted. What if he's someone I hate?"

"Whoah!" The wizard held up his hands, palms out. "Slow down there, Harry! It sounds to me like you are imaging only the worst case scenarios!"

"Well, if you knew anything about how my entire life has gone so far…" Harry's tone was bitter.

"And does that mean it has to stay that way? What if, for example, you meet this mystery boy, fall madly in love, and live happily ever after!" He beamed at Harry. Harry stared back at him for a long moment, before answering, flatly.

"Not happening."

"Or, you could always have that illicit meeting, safely disguised, and live with a great memory of having exciting adventures!"

"It would go wrong somehow. It always, always does."

"Then you must be used to it! It must hardly bother you anymore when things go horribly wrong!" The wizard still beamed, a little madly, Harry thought. Like Dumbledore at his most twinkly.

"Yeah, it bothers me. I want something in my life to go right, just once!"

"And as I said before, who says it can't? Is there a rule saying things can't change? Has someone cursed you?"

"Probably."

"Come now, Harry. You make your own destiny! Go out and grab life by the balls and give it a good shake, and tell it who's boss!"

Harry burst out laughing.

"Now. I'm going to just go over there and read by the fire a bit, and you send your electronic owl back to your mystery boy. I'll come back in a bit and see how it's going." With that, Broderick the Batty slipped out of his portrait and reappeared in the portrait of a library near the fireplace.

Harry looked down at his phone, once more rereading the last message.

'That was cheeky. A little too cheeky. But since I, theoretically, have you on your knees…perhaps you could make it up to me in other ways?'

'Sorry I didn't respond earlier. Got carried away with some fascinating homework. You know how it is. So. On my knees, you say? Hmmm…I can think of at least once way I could make it up to you. In fact, I might just have to keep insulting Slytherins, just to find more ways to apologize.' He sent the message. It wasn't exactly explicit, but then, he wasn't exactly experienced. And he didn't want to say something stupid and give that away. The response was fast.

'Thought I'd scared you off again. I'm glad I didn't. And you can insult me all you want if that means I get you on your knees before me as a result. Or in a few other positions I can think of.'

Heat shot to Harry's groin and he tipped his back to rest on the arm of the couch for a moment, before responding.

'Do tell.'

'I could tell you. But I'd rather show you. I'm serious. Let's meet.'

'I don't know,' Harry was serious now, his worries returning. 'I want to. But I have to admit. I'm nervous.'

'And you Gryffindors are supposed to be brave!' The text was followed quickly by another. 'Sorry. I don't mean to sound pushy. You don't have to if you don't feel comfortable. But if you do, I think I know how. Have you heard of the Room of Requirement?'

Harry smiled. 'Yes, I think I read something about it in Hogwarts: A History' Actually, he'd still never read the book. He'd never seen the point, since Hermione had it practically memorized.

'Well we could meet there. I have a spell that would work, and that's easier to get ahold of than a potion. Brewing one would take far too long, and I hardly think Snape would let even a Slytherin get away with that without asking a few questions. The spell is "dissimulo". Try it, let me know if you can get it to work.'

Harry pulled out his wand again. He glanced around the room, found a mirror on the wall, and walked toward it. A little nervously, it was an unknown spell sent by a Slytherin after all, he pointed his wand at his face and spoke.

"Dissimulo!"

Nothing changed. He frowned at his reflection. But…

It was odd. He was there, it was still him, but somehow he felt unfamiliar. Familiar yet unfamiliar, his mind kept slipping away from. Maybe it wasn't him. It was a mirror, so it should be him, but. Blinking rapidly, he turned from the mirror. He had a moment of confusion. He looked back, there was no moment of recognition for his own reflection. He'd never seen that person before, but felt no sense of shock or unfamiliarity either. It was too odd. He lifted his wand, then paused.

"Shit." He pulled out his phone, again.

'Uh…how do I take this off?'

'Oh. Shit. Sorry. Just use finite incantatum.'

Harry raised his wand, muttered the spell, and, after checking the mirror to be sure it was effective, replied.

'thanks. That was definitely weird. It worked, though. So, what's the plan? When do we meet?'

'Tomorrow night? That's our last day with these phones anyway, we may as well make the most of it.'

Harry tried to ignore the feeling of a clenched fist in his stomach at that thought. He would follow Roddy's advice, and enjoy what he could.

'Ok. I will meet you at the Room of Requirement at midnight.'

"Everything seems to be going well, if I'm to judge by your face." Harry looked up to see that Broderick the Batty had returned to his own portrait.

"We're meeting here tomorrow." He couldn't keep the foolish grin off his face.

"Ah! Excellent! I'm sure you'll have a wonderful illicit assignation!" The balding wizard beamed.

Harry blushed deeply.

"Well, Harry, I must be off. I have my own illicit assignation to attend to." He winked broadly and Harry smiled back. "Oh and Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Do enjoy your magazines." And with that Roddy slipped out of his frame.

He picked up a magazine and immediately blushed deeply when he read the title "Wicked Wizards", and noticed the very scantily clad, and well-muscled Quidditch player gracing the front. He winked and smirked up at Harry, and slid his hands up and down his broom handle in a decidedly suggestive manner. He looked at the table and saw that the other magazines were in a similar line. And he noticed the box of tissues and beside it the bottle of…

"Oh, come on!"

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

I VERY nearly ended this with "Harry pulled out his wand."

I mean, we all know he did. He's young. He has dirty magazines.

Sorry, sorry.

Not at all sorry.

Yours,

Loony Luiny


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Dissimulo

Harry crept under his invisibility cloak, heart hammering in his chest. Tonight was the night. The first meeting, and the last. He had already performed the "dissimulo" spell, his familiar features blurring into that odd unfamiliarity. Turning the corner onto the corridor that held the door to the Room of Requirement, he stopped, took a long, shuddering breath, and stepped into the empty corridor.

Only it wasn't empty. A figure already stood before the wall, the door as not yet visible. Cloaked, like him, but in black, no part of him visible, but Harry recognized him on some deep level. He took another step forward. The cloaked boy looked up, the paleness of his face visible beneath his dark hid, then looked away again when he saw nobody there. Harry blushed, amazed at his own foolishness. He stepped back around the corner and removed his invisibility cloak, stuffing it away in a large pocket in his robes. He wished he had a mirror to check that the spell was active, but this was only wasting time. Taking another long, deep breath, he turned the corner. The figure turned, saw him now. And waited as Harry approached.

"Hi," said Harry, still breathless.

"Hi." The voice, not one he recognized, still gave him a feeling like the tug behind the belly button from a portkey.

"Sorry, I'm late. I had some trouble sneaking out of my common room." Harry was babbling now.

"S'alright. I've only been here five minutes."

They stood in silence, watching each other. The other boy lowered his hood. Harry drank in his appearance, though none of the details would stick in his mind, he still had an impression of a pleasant appearance. Someone he already found attractive.

"Shall we then?" The other boy gestured toward the blank wall, then held out his hand. "You know what to do?" Harry nodded, took the boys hand, and they paced back and forth in front of the door, both thinking simply of a place to meet, to talk, to spend one night together.

The door appeared. Squat and wide, dark, aged wood. A friendlier door than the DA door. They looked at each other, and reached out to open it at the same time. The boy deferred, and Harry opened the door, gesturing him through, and closed it behind them.

He hadn't known what to expect. Probably something like some Slytherin sex dungeon fantasy. A place that screamed "Illicit sex!". But no. It was cozy. Small, comfortable. There was one long, low couch in a soft velvety looking black fabric before a cheery, crackling fire, the walls were dark wood beams with white plaster between them, and the pictures of the walls were beautiful, but not blatantly erotic. It was a room for anything. He stepped further into the room, and saw a small table against another wall, with two chairs. Several covered platters, a pitcher, and two long-stemmed glasses sat on the table. That was a nice detail he hadn't even thought of.

"It's not exactly what I expected," came the boy's voice beside him.

"No. I like it though." Harry answered.

"Are you hungry?"

"No," Harry laughed, shakily. "Honestly, I'm too nervous to eat."

"Don't be nervous. We are strangers, remember? We'll never see each other again."

"Yeah," Harry answered, trying to ignore the unpleasant feeling that thought gave him, "You're right. Let's just sit on the couch a bit, and…talk?"

"Sure." His companion took his hand and pulled him to the couch. They sat, close to each other, for which Harry was relieved. He didn't think he'd have the nerve to move closer if he had sat farther away. And he wanted to be close to this boy.

"We did it."

"We did."

"This is strange."

"But in a good way. For me at least. I'm glad we could meet. Even if only the once."

Harry wanted to ask him not to keep saying things like that, pointing out how it was a one time thing. As if he was going to forget!

"It is for me, too."

They were silent a moment.

"Do you want to talk, then, or…" The other boy trailed off.

"Or what?" Harry asked, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Uh…" Harry's mind froze for a moment. But what did it matter? It was only for tonight, and he would make the most of it! "Yes?"

"Yes?" The other boy sounded skeptical now. "You don't sound sure. I won't do it if you're not sure."

"Yes!" Harry laughed, and he was the one to lean forward. To reach out one hand and place it against the soft skin of the boy's cheek. He stopped just short of kissing him, both feeling the other's breath on their lips, Harry's heart pounding so hard he felt surely they must hear it all the way back in the Gryffindor Tower. Then he moved that fraction of an inch forward, and their lips met. A gentle brush at first, then another. Soft, soft as a girl's lips. The other's hand came up, slid gently behind Harry's neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. It grew quickly rougher, more urgent. Harry's lips parted, and he felt a tongue sliding between his lips, tasting him. His other hand moved of it's own accord, so that both his hands were cradling the boy's face as he kissed him longer and more deeply than he'd ever kissed anyone before. Nothing else existed for him but the lips, the scent, the feel, of the other boy. They were pulling each other closer, hands travelling over each other.

A grunt of annoyance distracted Harry, and he broke the kiss, and his companion reached for his robes.

"Please. Take these off. I want to be closer to you." The tone was demanding now, the earlier cautiousness gone. Harry grinned. He undid his robes and pulled them off, his companion already doing the same. After a moment's thought, Harry slid his sweater off over his head in one smooth motion, placing his glasses askew. He took them off as well. The other boy followed suit. Now Harry wore only his t shirt, the other a black turtleneck. Harry kissed him again, urgently, his hands running over the lean, tight body. He felt his companion's hands trailing over him, stirring and stoking the fire inside him as the kiss, deep and desperate, and a little clumsy in it's haste, drove all thoughts from his mind.

They kissed, simply exploring each other, revelling in the closeness, the connection of their bodies. Harry knew he was in too deep, but he simply did not, could not, care.

The night progressed, their kiss slowed, grew long, languid. Harry found himself leaning deeper, gently guiding the other down to lay on the couch with him on top. Their shirts were gone, and then, trousers unbuckled. Before long, those, too were gone, and Harry revelled in the sensation of skin on skin. It was almost too much for him to bear, it felt so intense. It was both too much and not enough. He wanted more.

Late, late in the night, they lay together, their breathing slowing, occasionally kissing, slow, gentle kisses. Harry knew they should go back to their common rooms to sleep, tomorrow was Monday. But he couldn't bring himself to leave, and his companion said nothing.

"We didn't eat, yet." He said, at last. He felt the laugh of the other.

"Do you want to?" He snuggled closer to Harry.

"Er…actually, yeah. I didn't eat much today…er…yesterday…because of the nerves and all." He laughed, sheepish.

"Alright. If you insist." But the boy made no move to release Harry. The cuddled and kissed, and it grew deeper, and harder, and it was nearly a full hour before they rested in each other's arms again. Harry's stomach growled audibly, and the boy groaned. "Alright. Let's eat something, since I, obviously, cannot satisfy you completely." He grinned at Harry and was up off the couch and moving across the room, picking up his robes on the way. He sat, naked but for the robes draped casually over his shoulders, and lifted the lid from a platter, waiting for Harry to follow. Harry grabbed his own robes and joined him at the table. The food was simple, sliced meats and cheeses, fruit, a delicious bread he'd never tasted before, and the drink proved itself to be mead, much to both boys' surprise and delight. They ate slowly, enjoying this type of company almost as much as the other.

"School tomorrow is going to be hell." Harry remarked.

"Ugh. Don't remind me about SCHOOL. I was honestly considering pretending to be ill and just spending the day in bed, but that'd probably just get me sent to the hospital wing."

"We'd better not be late. Might be a bit of a giveaway on the identity thing."

"An excellent point. I will make sure we wake on time, if we do sleep at all." He grinned at Harry again. Harry really liked that grin. He wished he could see it properly, on a face he could recognize.

"I can't believe we really did this."

"I can't believe you really came. I thought you weren't going to, actually. Especially when you were late. I thought you were just playing me."

"I would never do that." Harry was serious, now.

"Even if I'm only a perverted, dirty-minded, Slytherin slut?"

"Hey. You are MY perverted, dirty-minded, Slytherin slut!" Realizing what he had said and blushing deeply, Harry quickly added, "For tonight at least."

"Yeah. For tonight." They broke eye contact and resumed eating.

They cuddled again after that, and kissed, and touched, and at some point fell asleep without even realizing it.

A shrill sound like an alarm split the air, startling Harry awake. For a moment, he forgot where he was, but the muffled curse and the hand reaching across him to grab a wand a mutter a spell to silence the alarm brought him up to speed. He turned in the boy's arms, planting a kiss on his lips.

They dressed in silence. There was no time for long goodbyes, they had just enough time to get back to their dormitories for their schoolbooks and a quick change of clothes, before they had to be in the Great Hall if they wanted to make it in time for breakfast.

Soon, they stood in the corridor outside the room.

"Well. Goodbye then. I guess I'll be seeing you in Muggle Studies, even if I won't know it."

"Yeah. Goodbye." Harry's throat was dry. He felt the boy lean in, brush a gentle kiss on his lips, and step back.

He was tempted, so tempted. He opened his mouth, ready to ask, ready to just take off the spell and see what came of it. But he couldn't. Visions of an expression of sheer disgust marring the features of his companion stopped him. In his mind, he could hear "Harry Potter? I would never have done this if I knew you were Harry Potter!" Oddly, the voice in his head was Draco Malfoy's, prince of Slytherin insults. The two boys stood, watching each other, then, the other turned, and Harry turned, and the distance between them grew, until they were both out of sight.

A few turns later, Harry stopped, resting his back against the wall, feeling a nearly physical pain in his chest. He wanted to cry, but would not allow it. After a long time of just standing there, feeling the cold stone against his back, Harry cast finite incantatum and made his was slowly back to his common room. He didn't care if he was late for breakfast. He wasn't hungry. He gave the Fat Lady his password and entered the common room. There'd been no need for the cloak on the way back, curfew was already over. He was nearly at the stairs up to his room when a voice called out.

"Oy! Harry! Where were you last night?" Oh Merlin, Seamus just had to ask that so loudly in front of half of Gryffindor house.

"Out for a walk," He lied, as he turned to see that the room had gone nearly silent, the others watching him with interest. "Couldn't sleep."

Nobody looked convinced. But Harry decided this didn't matter. He turned and went up to his room to gather his books.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Well, well, well!

Don't worry, my friends. The story isn't over yet! Not nearly.

Thank you everyone for the follows and reviews so far! I very much appreciate them. And I do hope this chapter fulfilled your expectations! And if it didn't, well, jump in a lake and get eaten by a giant squid. Kisses!

Yours,

Loony Luiny


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: How It All Went Wrong

Harry walked to his Muggle Studies classroom with a feeling like dread. He hadn't texted all morning. He hadn't received one either. Part of him wanted to, but another part of him said "What's the point? It's over. Nothing more to say."

Unless he just had the courage to give his name and just damn the consequences!

Of course, he couldn't do that. He couldn't face it when it all, inevitably, went horrible, horribly wrong, as everything in his life seemed to do. The delicious glow of his, well, calling it a date seemed better than anything else, had faded completely by the time he walked through the classroom door and saw the basket of phones sitting there for the students to hand in. He clutched the phone tighter in the pocket of his robes and decided to wait until the end of class.

"Excellent news, class!" He looked up, increasingly annoyed at the cheerful, excited face of the professor, only worsening his existing feeling of depression. What did she have to be so damned cheerful about? The rest of the class were also watching here, in the wary but interested way they always did in Muggle Studies when the professor was excited about something. She continued.

"The Headmaster has found a way to tie every phone into the same network, as the Muggles call it! It neatly bypasses all of the magical interference issues and means that any phone we tie into the system can talk to any other phone! Isn't that just wonderful?!"

Hermione raised her hand. "Sorry Professor, but I thought we were handing our phones in today."

"That's the exciting part! We are extending the lesson! Now you can text anyone you wish in the class! Today's lesson will be about exchanging phone numbers and adding people to your contacts! Another very useful skill if you ever need to make connections in the non-magical world!" She waved her wand over the phones, and they buzzed. "Now. You are added to the network! Happy texting, class. And don't forget to take full advantage of the photo and video capabilities! Those muggles are really quite ingenious!"

Harry sat, frozen. His first emotion was relief, a huge wave of relief that he could still talk to his mysterious texting partner. It was replaced, almost immediately, by horror.

They were going to find out.

They would find out that Harry was gay, that he'd been texting a Slytherin, that he'd gone on…well…what he'd decided to call a date…with a SLYTHERIN.

No. No…it might not happen that way. What were the chances of other Slytherins getting Harry's number to compare it with? Unlikely. Probably, no one would. In fact, he could even pretend that he had put his phone in the basket with the rest, and taken out a new one. Except then that would negate the whole part about being able to talk to his text friend.

It was all so confusing. He barely focused enough on the class to exchange numbers with Ron and Hermione and few of his other friends. Ron and Hermione both had new phones, having put their phones into the basket immediately upon arriving in class, and Ron, especially was happy about this, as it meant Lavender no longer had his number. Hermione, though she said nothing, had shot Lavender a particularly nasty glare when she approached Ron with her phone outstretched, and Lavender had quickly turned away and pretended to be heading for someone else instead.

He was still deep in thought when he left the classroom, heading for the Great Hall for the noon meal. He nearly collided with Draco Malfoy just outside the door.

"Oh! Give me your number, Potty. I simply _won't_ survive if I can't talk to you over the holidays!" Draco sighed dramatically. All the Slytherins still in earshot laughed as though Draco had actually said something witty or even slightly funny.

"Yeah, you have to spend time with your slimy Death Eater family, Malfoy. I'll gladly give you my number, just to give you a break." Harry pretended a matching concern.

"What, _still_ jealous I have parents? My word, Potter, shouldn't you be over that whole orphan thing by now?"

This time it was Harry who lost his temper. But Ron and Hermione were quicker, each taking an arm and marching him past Malfoy and down the hall.

"Honestly, Harry! Why do you even bother responding to him?" Hermione sighed in exasperation. "It's so predictable now! One of you insults the other, the other insults in return, and one of you says something way over the line and then one of you loses your temper and pulls out his wand, and then you both get detention. It's ridiculous. Why can't you just forget about each other? Learn to ignore each other if you can't get along?"

"It's not that simple, Hermione," Harry answered through gritted teeth.

She gave him a look, but dropped the subject.

Shortly after, Harry sat in the Great Hall with his phone in his hand, wondering. If he sent a text, who would it be? It had taken him until now to realize, with something like horror, that it may not be the same person to reply after all. The thought somehow just hadn't occurred to him. Now he found himself dreading the moment of confirmation. The one number in his phone without a name attached as yet, the important one. How many phones had been in the basket? Had he been the only one to hold his back? Probably. He tried very hard to hold down his sick feeling of loss, that seemed ridiculous when he had known that it was coming, had already been prepared for it.

It was just, just…he had finally had something for himself! Something that wasn't to do with his damned scar or his history or any expectations about him at all. It had just been two people, talking, freely, easily, without any pressure on him at all. And now he felt sure he had lost that, not once, but twice in one day, because his hopes had been raised high in between.

He ate quickly and left the hall, once again almost colliding with Draco Malfoy.

"What the fuck are you trying to do?" He spat, his bad mood boiling over. "Run into on purpose? Why the fuck are you so obsessed with me? Why don't you just leave me the fuck alone."

Malfoy looked even more pale and sneering than usual. "Just fuck off, Potter!" He snarled. "Not everything is about you." He stormed off, and Harry followed suit.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Harry was so relieved he would be going to Ron's for the holidays. He didn't think he could stand it, rattling around the castle with the fraction of the student population that would still be there. He needed distraction and comfort, both things that could be found at the Weasley's. They were packed and ready to leave, only waiting for Hermione to come down so they could go to the train together.

"You are going to turn you phone on, aren't you Harry?" Hermione asked, as they made their way our of the train to the platform, where they could see both the Weasley's and Hermione's parents waiting. "Apparently it will work outside of Hogwarts, but only to other phones outside the castle. But that means we can text each other over the holidays! And you haven't used it once since we got the project extension!"

"Yeah!" Now Ron was looking with suspicion at Harry. "You were on your phone all the time before. Haven't even seen you turn it on since then."

How could Harry explain? He couldn't, of course. And the way they were both looking at him. He tried to smile normally.

"You're right. I should get some homework in." He pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it on.

Almost immediately, it buzzed. He looked at the screen for a long moment.

Five New Messages

Hope flared, and then died within him. Several students pushed past them, but Harry didn't notice.

The first message was from Seamus, which had made him immediately doubt that the rest would be from the one person he really wanted to hear from. The second and third were from Ron and Hermione, like Seamus' message it was from the day they had gotten the project extension.

The fourth was from an unknown number.

Harry's heart thudded in his chest.

'So…just curious here. Dissimulo?'

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a sensation of heat through his entire body. He opened his eyes quickly, before Ron and Hermione could notice and comment, and looked at the last message.

'Guess not. Sorry. Nevermind that.'

His heart sank again. He'd wasted so much time when they could have been talking. He'd made him think he had the wrong number! Why had he been so damned stupid and afraid.

Harry decided he wasn't going to waste even another second of his time.

'It's you. I didn't turn my phone on because I didn't think it would be. I'm sorry.'

The answer was so quick, Harry didn't even have the time to put his phone back into his pocket.

'What the fuck?! I thought I'd lost contact with you this whole time and you just didn't have your phone turned on?!'

'I'm sorry! I'll make it up to you!'

'How?'

Harry bit his lip. Should he? He shrugged. No point in pretending to by shy about this now.

'On my knees. Like in the Room of Requirement.'

"Honestly, Draco!" Pansy Parkinson's shrill voice rang out in the corridor behind him. "Don't ignore me because your little fuck buddy finally texted you back. Room of Requirement? What does that even mean?"

Harry looked up, his face gone white, his mouth hanging open in shock, to meet the eyes of Draco Malfoy. Malfoy's eyes met his.

The change of expression was gradual. At first, he only looked annoyed, presumably because of Pansy, then he noticed Harry, and a sneer began to curl at his lip, then he noticed Harry's expression, and the phone in his hand, and the sneer died away, to be replaced with an expression of utter blankness. They two boys stared at each other, each with a phone in his hand, the entire rest of the corridor, the train, the platform, and everything, fading out in one moment of long, slow, horrified mutual realization.

And then the moment was broken. Pansy grasped Draco's arm, her voice a background buzz of indecipherable words, Ron and Hermione had noticed Draco, but only assumed another fight was imminent, and were hustling Harry off the train to their waiting parents.

Harry said nothing, he let himself be dragged along in their wake, phone still clutched in his hand, now so hard that his knuckles had gone white.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

First of all, I must apologize mightily for this long and suspenseful wait. Family issues, mother in hospital, emergency surgery, etc etc. The usual life being a pile of shit break was needed. All is good now though, and Harry and Draco should certainly not be left hanging so long again.

If you enjoyed this, do please leave a short review. It means a lot to me and spurs me on to update faster.

Of course, you could always leave a long review too, detailing every single flaw and failure, those are fine, too.

Yours,

Loony Luiny


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: What are friends for?

Harry walked through the rest of the day in a daze. Through the greetings of the Weasley's, the return to the Burrow in all it's comforting, familiar coziness. He went to bed, in Ron's bed, while Ron took a cot, sharing his small room as usual, with his mind still in a state of numb shock, the same horrified moment of realization on repeat, trading off with re-framed memories of the past few weeks, now with his mysterious Slytherin replaced with Malfoy. Malfoy's so-familiar, sneering, pale, Pureblood face.

Oh Merlin. The things they'd said. The things they'd _done_!

It had been…

Harry's mind would not settle, no opinion on what had happened would rise to the surface, no distinct emotion or decision. It only whirled through the same scenes, and that singular moment of shocked horror, over and over, until, finally, he slept.

In his dreams he was in the Room of Requirement again. Malfoy sat there, in a high backed, dark green brocade chair, one ankle slung across the other knee, a glass of wine in his long-fingered hand, looking every inch the Slytherin prince. He watched Harry cross the room, as if he were a supplicant before the prince on his throne. Harry knelt before him, and said only "please".

"And that is just how I want you, Potter, on your knees, and begging." Malfoy's cool grey eyes looked down into his, and there was only amusement and satisfaction there.

A new dream. Malfoy and Harry, standing together.

"It's easier this way," Malfoy whispered, and pointed his wand at Harry's face. "_Dissimulo_." His voice hissed like a snake._ I do not want to recognize you. I never wanted to recognize you._

"I would take it all back if I could." Harry whispered.

"It doesn't matter. I don't know who you are."

Yet again, the dream changed. They were together, in the Great Hall. Malfoy stood, watching Harry, Pansy Parkinson stood, whispering in his ear, on one side, Blaise Zabini on the other, as he watched Harry where he stood, flanked by Ron and Hermione, all the school watching them. He smiled at Harry, and his eyes were cold. He turned to Pansy, and kissed her, passionately, then turned to Blaise, and kissed him, too. Both of them were touching him, hugging him, kissing him, caressing him. He threw his head back in an ecstasy of pleasure, and Harry stood there, watching. "I always knew Malfoy was a pervert." Ron said. "I'm glad you aren't like that, Harry."

"Disgusting," Hermione agreed. "I wouldn't want to be your friend if _you_ were like that, Harry."

When Harry awoke from the cycle of disturbing dreams, distinct scenes and fleeting fragments of others, his stomach churned with anxiety and guilt.

_Of course, only I would get into a situation like this,_ he thought grimly. _And now, what will happen? Will Malfoy tell? Find a way to make it look as though he knew all along, just to make a fool of me?_ He could see the Daily Prophet headlines already, shaming and mocking him again, once again the whispers would start, he'd be the talk of the wizarding world, once again, for something that should have been his own private life.

He barely ate anything at breakfast, moving the food around his plate to avoid Mrs Weasley's motherly fussing. It didn't work, of course.

"Harry! You've barely eaten! Are you alright, dear?" Her hand was on his forehead, her wand ready to cast diagnostic spells at the slightest thought that he may be ill.

"I'm fine!" He said quickly. "I guess I'm still tired. I think I've been overdoing it at school. Glad to be here and get a rest, finally!" That satisfied her, as he had known it would. The problem and it's solution neatly packaged for her. She fussed over him even more than usual after that, pushing his favourite foods on him, letting him and Ron both sleep in, much to Ron's appreciative delight.

Harry had his phone on, and Hermione texted them both every day. It was so much faster than owl mail, and the three friends had already decided they would all get phones upon graduation, provided they could figure out what protective spells they could use to keep them functioning around the high levels of magic they lived with. But there were, of course, no other texts. Of course not. Certainly not from his Slytherin, who no longer seemed to exist in Harry's mind, the role usurped and twisted by Malfoy. He felt a loss as the days passed. As thought that person had been killed, and Malfoy stood there as a pretender. The dreams continued, sometimes incredibly beautiful and erotic, other times only cruel, laughing, sneering, and shame. Harry laughed and joked with the Weasley's, feeling as though he was doing a wonderful job of pretending nothing was wrong, to judge by the lack of questions and fussing. If he spent a little more time focusing on his homework than usual, well, that was only natural. School was important, Ron would do well to take a lesson, there.

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

Harry woke, confused. It was dark out, nearly 1am. A muffled curse from the bathroom next door made itself known as the source of the problem. He sat up. Ron's cot was empty. He lay back down, awake now, but not worried. Another course, and something smacked into the dividing wall. Harry got out of bed, feeling a little embarrassed as he padded barefoot into the hallway and tapped lightly at the door.

"Ron, you alright?" Silence followed. Then the door creaked open. Ron stood there, shirtless, and red to the roots of his hair.

"Sorry. I'm done, bathrooms yours."

"No. I mean…what are you doing?" He realized immediately how invasive and terribly awkward a question it was. "I mean. No. I don't want to know. I just heard, uh-"

Ron cut him off. "I wasn't doing that!" He lifted his phone. "I was…mumblemumble." His voice dropped, his words indecipherable. Harry stared.

"What?"

"I was trying to take a selfie." His eyes stared fixedly at the wall to the right of Harry. "For Hermione."

Harry took in his shirtless state again. "oh. Not going well, then?"

Ron's eyes dropped the the carpet now. "No." he muttered. He sighed. "It's just…we were texting. And Hermione sent me some, and…Harry, she looked amazing. She asked me to send one back and I've been trying for the last hour but…I figured out the camera, but I look terrible. I look hideous. She's going to break up with me, realize I'm not worthy of her."

"Ron. It's fine. Here. Show me." He paused, then quickly added. "I mean, if you aren't, you know…"

"I kept my pants on," Ron said with an attempt at dignity, though he remained red. "I'm making enough of a fool of myself without trying _that_." He opened his phone, to a picture gallery.

Harry stared. He tried, really tried, to keep his face neutral. But it was a failure. Ron groaned, grabbing his hair with both hands.

"I'm doomed," he moaned. Harry tapped a few buttons, and deleted every picture.

"Come," he pulled Ron into the bedroom. "The bathroom is too bright. It…doesn't work." He turned on the bedroom light and looked around. The orange everywhere was definitely not going to help. "No, wait. Downstairs."

"Are you kidding me, Harry, someone will hear us! Merlin, Harry, if Fred and George-"

"Shh, Ron. It's fine." Harry looked around the room once more, then grabbed a few items before following Ron.

They went down to the sitting room, and Harry lit a fire with a flick of his wand.

"Sit there," he gestured to the couch across from the fire, and lit a few more lamps and lights, checking through the phone camera to get just the right effect. "No. There, in the corner, lean on the armrest with one arm, drape the other across the couch." He arranged Ron until he lounged, his long, lean, Quidditch-toned body draped across the couch. He tousled Ron's hair until a few red strands fell into his eyes. The firelight played across his chest, lit his hair with red-gold highlights. Harry snapped a few pictures. He made Ron get up and dress in the dress robes Fred and George had once bought him with Harry's money, leaving them open. The cell phone camera was really excellent, Harry thought, surveying the finished pictures. He had Ron dress in a few different items, holding a quaffle, holding his broom in a suggestive manner that had taken a very long time for Harry to talk Ron into relaxing for, his face almost smirking in the single moment Harry had captured the picture between the complaints of how absolutely awkward this was and "are you sure this doesn't look a little gay, Harry?" ha. If only he knew how not the right person Harry was to ask that of. Finally, they crept back up to the room, and Harry handed Ron the phone, having already deleted all but the best of the pictures, and put away the props.

"Harry!" Ron sounded shocked. "These are…" Harry looked up. Ron was blushing again, but with pleasure this time. "These are amazing! I look good!"

"Yeah Ron." He grinned at his friend's pleasure.

"But Harry," Ron's smile fled. "She'll know I didn't take these myself."

"So? Just tell her you made me take them for you. If you don't act weird about it, she'll only see the pictures and, I promise you, she won't be thinking about much else but how you look."

"Thanks, Harry. You are the best friend ever."

Harry went back to sleep, feeling pretty great about himself.

In the morning, he woke up alone. Ron was already gone. When he stumbled down the stairs, only Ginny was in the kitchen, also yawning over a late breakfast.

"Hey Harry," she said, around another huge yawn.

"Hey Gin." He sat. "Sleep well?"

"Not very," she grinned at him. "Some idiots woke me up in the middle of the night banging around the house."

Harry looked up, hand frozen in the act of piling bacon onto his plate.

"Yeah. I know about your little photoshoot," she said. "Ron even let me see the pictures after I said I'd tell Fred and George all about it if he didn't. I have to say, I'm impressed. And so was Hermione." She grinned. "Ron's off talking to her now. Outside. In the garden shed so Fred and George can't find him."

Harry smiled, relieved. "Glad to hear it."

"You should become a photographer, Harry. You have the knack for it."

"Because of cell phone pictures?"

She shrugged. "Just think what you could do with a camera, with enough practice."

Harry's phone buzzed. Ginny put her plate in the sink and left the kitchen, leaving Harry alone. He pulled out his phone, grinning, to see what Hermione had to say. Perhaps a gushing thank you.

'I've been thinking, Potter.'

Only that. Nothing else. Harry gaped at the phone. What was Malfoy playing at? What was this about? Harry's thumbs hovered over the buttons. His face tightened into a scowl, and he closed the phone again. No. He didn't care what Malfoy thought. He didn't give a single flying fuck what Malfoy thought. What schemes he'd come up with to embarrass and revenge himself on Harry.

He would forget this. Once and for all.

If only the dreams would let him.

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

What does our darling Draco have on his mind, do you wonder? Merlin-damnit Potter! Give the man a chance!

Thank you all for your lovely reviews! The last chapter got the most so far! Each one makes me grin foolishly, and I read them several times like the attention-seeking approval whore that I am!

Yours,

Loony Luiny


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: What Is And What Is Not

Harry and Ron found Hermione in their usual compartment on the Hogwarts Express. When she looked up, her eyes fixed on Ron, and this time she was the one to blush, though Ron, of course, joined her. Harry stood for a moment, then pushed Ron into the compartment and closed the door, moving on to find a different compartment. He threw himself down into a seat in the most remote and unoccupied compartment he could find, and settled in for a miserable and lonely ride. He toyed with his phone, the phone with the messages he was still refusing to reply to. Messages such as:

'As dreadful as I, too, find this, Potter, talking to you has become something of a habit.'

'This is very rude, Potter. Has being raised by Muggles utterly stunted you in the area of basic manners? The least you could do is acknowledge that I know who you are, that you know who I am, and that we should probably discuss this before returning to school.'

Or:

'Honestly, Potter, you call yourself a Gryffindor?'

Harry dropped his head into his hands, digging his fingers painful into his scalp. Infuriating. Of course he wouldn't respond. Not acknowledge this in any way. He wasn't an idiot. And this served him right for not cutting off this…ridiculous flirtation…the moment he had discovered the other was a Slytherin.

And a boy, yeah. He shouldn't have gone there either. Stupid, really. All of it. Stupid. And for the rest of the year he would be waiting for the whispers, the Daily Prophet headlines, the shocked, and probably disgusted, looks from his friends.

The compartment door slid open. Harry lifted his head with a jerk, eyes wide, somehow already knowing what to expect. He cursed himself for not putting on his invisibility cloak and just hiding until he got to school.

It was Draco. His eyes were cold, his white-blonde hair in that just-shagged look he'd adopted this year. His lip was curled into that familiar sneer as he stared down at Harry. Harry looked away.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" He asked, cringing a little when his voice came out more shaky than annoyed.

There was no answer. He looked up. Malfoy was staring down at him still, his head tilted to one side. His eyes were still cold.

"I know I'm not wrong. I know." Malfoy said.

Harry looked away again, and said nothing.

"Coward." Draco turned, and walked away down the corridor.

Harry sat, stunned and immobile, and realized he was shaking.

He met up with Hermione and Ron at the Hogwarts platform, and they chatted away happily on the way to the school, barely noticing Harry's silence.

It all got worse after that. Draco stepped up his nastiness to them in the hallway, picking fights with Harry, though he barely even gave Ron or Hermione a second glance these days. To Harry, it only reassured him that he'd done the right thing not to fall for those last few messages, messages that pretending Draco Malfoy would ever talk to Harry Potter, ever be friends, every be anything more than friends. Ever be anything like what they had been before they had discovered that awful, awful truth on the train.

Every day, Harry sat with his back to the Slytherin table so he didn't have to watch Malfoy's pale face twisted into that sneer, see how his hair tended to fall into one eye, and the way he tilted his head back in a little jerk to get it out of his face. He didn't have to watch his lip curled into disgust when Harry met his eyes. That single word still hung between them. Coward.

But, of course, Harry wasn't a coward. He was smart. He'd taken to leaving his phone in his trunk. Just to avoid looking at it, checking for more messages, though there hadn't yet been any.

Not that Harry cared, of course. He didn't need to play into any more of the Slytherin's games. Obviously, the only reason the Slytherin boy hadn't already told the whole school about it already was because it would be equally damaging to his own reputation. They were locked in a strange shared secret. And the worst, the very worst part, was the memory of the shared laughter over all the ridiculous nonsense they'd spoken. He still found himself looking at the staff table and imaging some hilarious soap-opera drama between the teachers and instinctively thinking he should share it with…with…not Draco Malfoy, son of a Death Eater, bully, enemy.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Harry was walking down the corridor alone when Draco and his friends walked past him, Draco's shoulder slamming with bruising force into Harry's, sending him into he wall, his books flying.

"What the fuck is your problem Malfoy?!"

Malfoy whirled on him.

"_My_ problem? What the fuck is _your_ problem, Potter? The Gryffindor fucking golden boy. What's your problem? Are you mad that a filthy Slytherin dared to brush passed you? Afraid we'll tarnish you?" Harry's reply died on his lips at that. There was a moment of silence, where Draco's eyes held something other than fury.

"What's the matter, Potter? Cat got your tongue? Or are you just too good to talk to a Slytherin?" Draco turned, and walked away, his friends following, with backwards smirks at Harry where he still sat surrounded by his belongings, and the sick feeling that Draco hadn't just been taunting him with the usual insults for the usual reasons. His words had…had they held double meanings?

oooooooooooooooooo

The next time Draco slammed into him, again, definitely on purpose, he feigned disgust.

"Argh! Potter! Stop touching me! Honestly, I swear you must be in love with me seeing as how you are all over me all the time." His friends' laughter rang in Harry's ears as he silently walked away, looking back to see Draco staring after him with burning eyes, the smile gone from his face, his lip curled just slightly. Hermione congratulated him on not rising to Draco's bait.

The next time they passed each other in the corridor, they were both alone, and Harry was ready. Draco veered away from his path and slammed his shoulder into Harry, Harry caught his arm, spun him, and slammed him against the wall.

"Why can't you leave me the fuck alone, Malfoy? Just leave me alone!"

"Leave you alone?" The words were almost a purr, and could have been pleasant if not for the dangerous look in Draco's eyes, though he was still, submitting to Harry's grip. "Why would I do that? We've become such good friends, such close companions. All those lovely little conversations…"

"Let's…let's just…" Harry's grip slackened. "Let's just forget it ever happened. It was a mistake, obviously."

Draco's face twisted into a snarl, and he shoved Harry violently off him.

"Yes. It was a mistake. It should be obvious I would never purposely have anything to do with you, Potter." His gaze raked Harry from head to toe, taking in his perpetually mussed hair, crooked robes, loosely hanging school tie. He turned and walked away, and Harry felt cold, the remembered warmth of Draco's robes still on his hands. To his horror, he felt tears threatening. Tears. Over Draco Malfoy, or the friend it felt like he had lost.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ron and Hermione had their heads together when Harry entered the common room. They separated, looking furtive, and he barely suppressed an eye roll. As if it wasn't completely obvious that they were talking about him and his MOODS and his NIGHTMARES, which no matter how many times Harry insisted were only dreams, and nothing to do with his scar, made Ron uneasy. But Harry couldn't talk to them, he couldn't tell them what was going on, couldn't tell anyone.

He slouched down into the couch, grateful when neither of his friends brought up their new favourite topic of "What Is Going On, Harry? We're Your Friends, You Can Talk To Us. Don't Shut Us Out, Harry, We Want To Help You." But the discussions about Quidditch and homework left him feeling restless, his nerves felt abraded, the noises in the common room were too loud, too jarring, and he found he really just wanted to be alone.

It hit him then. The answer. To being alone, to having someone to talk to.

He stood.

"I'm going to go for a walk."

"Harry, it's almost curfew!"

Harry shot Hermione a look. "You still say that? After all these years of us breaking curfew? And you do recall I did learn how to tell time in recent years."

Ron sighed. "Just take the cloak, Harry."

Harry nodded. He had it in his bag, anyway.

He was at the Room of Requirement, the corridor was deserted, and Harry paced and thought of what he needed.

Someone to talk to, someone who could help him, give him advice. Someone who would keep a secret, and to absolutely not be disturbed.

When he went into the room, he was momentarily horrified to find it little changed from the room he'd met his unknown friend in, Draco Malfoy, under the Dissimulo spell. He flushed, and found it a little harder to draw breath. The memories came flooding back in all their detail, now with Draco Malfoy's face, leaning over him in the firelight, bending to kiss him, Draco touching him, sliding his hands over Harry's stomach, and lower. Draco Malfoy gasping as Harry knelt before him.

Knelt before Draco fucking Malfoy.

Harry crossed to the couch and sat, his head in his hands, fingers fisting into his hair.

"You again!" He looked up. Broderick the Batty was there, across from him, his round, red face beaming out at Harry from his portrait frame. "Harry, wasn't it?"

"Uh…yeah. I…" Harry trailed off. Now that he was here, he didn't know what to say. "I need more advice, I guess." He looked down at his hands, his fingers twining and twisting together nervously.

"Hm. I am to take it the last bit of advice you got from me didn't go so well, then?"

"It…didn't not go well." Roddy chuckled, sounding pleased.

"I am glad to hear it!"

"But…there were…unintended consequences. It turned out the guy I'd been talking to is…well let's just say he'd the worst possible person in the school that it could have been."

"Oh. I'm sorry. That ugly, then?"

"What?" Harry looked up, startled. "No."

"Old? A teacher disguising himself as a student?"

Harry's brow furrowed.

"Your long-lost twin brother?"

Harry glared. "No. That's…he's someone I hate. Someone I've hated from years."

"Why?"

It was a simple question, really, and should have had an easy answer.

"Because he hates me. He's treated me like shit since we met. He's an arrogant prat. He thinks he's…well…he's an arrogant, slimy prat who only known how to insult people and probably came to school knowing more dark spells than most of the teachers."

"And yet you liked him perfectly well before you knew it was him."

"I thought you were here to give me good advice, not defend him."

"It just seems that there may have been more to this boy than met the eye, and that perhaps you saw a different side of him than his public face. I don't know all your history, Harry, so I won't tell you what to do. But think about that at least. Think about the boy you know now, and the friend you knew, and see if maybe you can't find some of that friend still there."

Harry sat in silence for a long time after that, and it was long past curfew when he finally snuck past into his dorm room, and crawled into bed for another night of disturbed dreams.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

This fic is drawing to a close! I have an extensive list of ideas for future fics, but I will allow some input here!

-Another chapter in my "Silken" oneshot.

-"The Permanent Sticking Charm". This one is already in progress actually, and we all already know exactly what this kind of fic is all about. A duel in the hallway goes rather badly wrong. Drarry of course!

-An as yet unnamed fic with Malfoy deciding he needs to become friends with Harry about going about it in the absolutely logical Malfoy way. He has lists.

-Another Muggle Studies fic focusing on a different project or field trip in each chapter.

-A non-Drarry fic with other characters and pairings. Snape? The Weasley twins?

-A Hermione slash fic. Sometimes the ladies need some love, too!

Please feel free to give me suggestions! I don't know how much is left on this story, I initially even considered ending it in this chapter, differently of course! But I couldn't resist adding a bit of angst and confusion, since that's basically what Harry is all about.

Ta,

Loony Luiny


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Prejudice and Pride

Harry sat on his bed and stared at the phone in his hand. The curtains were drawn, and everyone else was asleep. He hadn't even turned it on in weeks. His thumb hovered over the power button, began to press down, and then stopped. He seemed incapable of exerting enough pressure to press the damn button down, paralyzed in his resolve.  
"Arrggh!" He threw himself down on the bed and fisted his hands into his hair. This was impossible! He had been so resolved when he woke up this morning, his dreams, confusing and disturbing and far too erotic for his current state of mind, had coalesced into a moment of absolute clarity with the golden rays of morning sun. Draco…er…Malfoy, had texted him. Repeatedly. He had tried to continue the conversation. It was the least Harry could do to…to deign to respond. Sure, it might be a trick, probably was. Draco hadn't exactly proven himself to be anything but an asshole in the past weeks, but, the person he had been talking to was there, behind that. Somewhere. And however much he tried to forget about him, Harry missed that person, so much.  
He sat up, he gritted his teeth. Enough was enough.  
"I'm a Gryffindor. A damned Gryffindor." He pressed the button.  
He waited.  
A long moment passed before he accepted that there were no messages. He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and thought what to do next. What did you say at a time like this? He threw his phone down angrily and got out of bed, dressed in his flying gear, and grabbed his broom. He had Quidditch practice in half an hour, he'd get down there early for some time alone on the pitch. Flying always cleared his head.  
He headed down to the quidditch pitch, seeing nobody yet in the air, and was relieved to have it to himself. He turned a bend and saw two heads bent together, the familiar white-blonde hair that he spent far too much time staring at…and red. Red hair. Long, straight red hair. What was Ginny doing talking with Draco Malfoy? Harry stepped back out of sight and peered carefully around the corner at the shocking sight of the two of them, decidedly NOT hexing each other, or insulting each other. Ginny flipped her hair back out of her shoulder and folded her arms, and now he could see her face. She looked thoughtful, considering, and a little amused. Harry couldn't hear what they were saying, but finally, Malfoy extended his hand, and Ginny took it in a quick, firm, handshake, before the two separated, Ginny mounting her broom and heading off toward the far end of the Quidditch pitch, and Malfoy toward Harry, who quickly took several steps back, before turning and resuming his walk to the pitch, attempting an air of surprise when he all but ran into Malfoy.  
"Potter." Draco drawled, making the word an insult. Instantly, Harry felt any warmer feelings towards the blond fade into annoyance, and anger. Trust Malfoy to make things difficult. Still, neither of them moved.  
"What are you doing out here, Malfoy?"  
Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "My my, Potter. You think you own the Quidditch pitch now, too? Such arrogance. Professor Snape may be right about you after all."  
Harry recognized the anger spike in himself, and this time, he controlled it, and let it go. Malfoy was doing it on purpose, as usual, as he always did, and this was never going to end, was it? They would continue this stupid rivalry until they DIED, and it was…so stupid. Pointless. He sighed, suddenly weary, and pushed past Draco.  
"I see silence is becoming a habit for you, Potter. A little late to finally discover that virtue."  
Harry took to the air and left the infuriating Draco Malfoy behind. He flew toward Ginny, who was winding lazily around the hoops.  
"Hey, Harry!"  
"Hey Gin. What did Malfoy want?  
She laughed, dropping half off her broom and rolling as she made a sharp turn around the hoop, before returning her grip to the broom handle and flying to hover beside him.  
"Why do you want to know?"  
"I just didn't expect you and him to be talking and not…you know…hexing each other." Harry felt increasingly uncomfortable in the face of her obvious amusement.  
"Harry," she placed one hand on his shoulder. "Admit it, you're kind of obsessed." And, laughing, she flew off again, just as a few more team mates arrived. It wasn't until Harry was in the shower after an intense practice that he realized she'd never answered his question.

oOo

One week later, Harry received a package with his morning post. He opened the accompanying card, and read:  
"This is either an early birthday present or a late one. Take your pick. A little bird told me you have potential." Intrigued, her tore open the package to find…a camera.  
"Wow, Harry! I didn't know you were getting a camera! I can give you some tips!" Colin Creevey piped up.  
"That's a really nice camera, Harry. I've always been interested in magical photography. There's quite a large section in the library on the topic you should look at." Hermione added.  
"You can practice on me agai…uh…you can practice on me, Harry!" Ron said.  
Harry turned the camera over in his hand. Who would send him a camera? He looked across the table to where Ginny watched him, her face devoid of any suspicious expression. But no, Ginny didn't have the money for such an obviously expensive gift. This was all very confusing.  
Harry hadn't ever really considered photography. He certainly wasn't an artist. That whole business with helping Ron had just been…obvious. But still he let Hermione show him the books on photography, and checked a few likely looking books out.

oOo

Click.  
Click click.  
"Honestly, Harry, you're getting to be worse than Colin."  
"Sorry Ron. It's just, the light…"  
"Yeah, yeah."  
When he noticed the silence, Ron looked up. "I'm not actually annoyed, Harry, I was just teasing. I'm…I'm glad you have something to…well…you were so quiet at the beginning of this year, you weren't yourself. And then you were happy, and then you were even worse, so distant and everything. I'm really glad you have something that's making you happy, Harry."  
Harry looked down at the camera in his hands. Pictures already covered the wall beside his bed. Pictures of his friends, various places around Hogwarts, some artistic close ups. But the reminder of what he was distracting himself from had popped his good mood like a bubble.  
"Thanks, Ron. I guess I needed…something. But I'll let you do your homework." With the pretense of a smile, Harry put his camera away, and fished around in his trunk for a moment before heading out of the dorm. He went outside, and sat with his back against a tree, alone, and turned on his phone. Enough was enough. No more distractions, and no more doubts.  
'Hello Draco'

oOo

Harry sat for almost an hour before there was a response. He'd already given up, expecting that Malfoy had given up on even checking his phone long since, when his phone vibrated in his hand. He opened it.  
'really? REALLY?'  
Well that was hardly encouraging. He didn't even know what to reply to that! But he didn't need to. More messages followed.  
'I can't believe you!' Bzzzz 'The nerve!' Bzzzz 'Just "Hello Draco" after all this time? Are you kidding me?!'  
'I'm sorry. I should have responded sooner. I didn't know what to say.'  
'Wow.'  
Harry waited for another text but Draco left it at that, forcing Harry to add: 'I said I'm sorry. What did you expect, Malfoy?'  
'First it's Draco, now it's Malfoy? Again, I will say, REALLY?!'  
'What do you expect?! We hate each other? Why did you even message me, then? When you found out who I am?'  
'I told you. Habit.'  
'Habit. That's it? I don't believe you.'  
'Then why did you message me? Just to argue with me? Don't bother.'  
Harry was frantic. No. Draco couldn't be allowed to back out now! Not after he'd finally worked up the nerve to talk! 'I missed the person I was talking to. I admit it. Before I knew it was you.'  
'But now you know it's me, and obviously that disturbs you. So, again I ask, why are you messaging me now?'  
'So what, you don't have a problem with me? Could have fooled me.'  
There was a long time before the next text, time for Harry to get really nervous he'd driven Malfoy away again.  
'I don't have a problem with you. You have a problem with me.'  
Harry snorted out loud. 'Seriously?! You must be joking.'  
'If you only messaged me to fight, we can do that in person, you know. This isn't necessary. I don't need this.'  
The message was strangely touching to Harry. Almost an expression of vulnerability, that Draco wouldn't want to fight, wouldn't want a continuation of their usual conflict. Was as tired of this as Harry was.  
'Ok. Then what do you suggest?'  
'A truce. Nothing has to change. We can pretend we don't even know who the other is. Whatever we say here, doesn't carry over into the real world, and the real world stays there. Anything relevant to who we have been to each other in the past years doesn't invade this conversation.'  
It took Harry only a moment to decide.  
'Deal.'


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Dissimulo part 2

'So. What shall we talk about, oh person of blessedly unfamiliar identity?'

Harry found himself grinning, and the grin slid abruptly off his face as he remembered. Ah fuck. But no. the point was to pretend unfamiliarity. Just some random person of completely unknown identity. Yes. So he could smile at an amusing morning text from an unfamiliar person.

'Hmmm, the twelve uses of dragon blood? Homework? How good this shower I'm about to take is going to feel?'

Harry yawned, and sat up. Feeling, uncharacteristically, that this was going to be a great day, he got out of bed and headed for the showers.

oOo

'Oh, you in the shower. Let's do talk about that.'

"What are you grinning at?" Harry looked up from his phone to see Ron eyeing him suspiciously across the breakfast table.

"Nothing." But he couldn't help the smile that seemed insistent on spending the day plastered to his face. Every time the image of a blond, sneering face tried to swim across his conscious thoughts, he quickly shoved it aside. Nope. Nothing to do with that…person. Nope. Just his mysterious friend, who he'd missed.

He thought for a moment the day would take a turn for the worse when he, Ron, and Hermione came across Malfoy, Parkinson, and Zabini in the corridor between classes.

Draco stopped. The Gryffindors and Slytherins stood as if facing off for a duel, eyes narrowed, waiting for what insults or hexes were going to fly this time. Then Draco stepped forward, swept a deep, courtly bow, "Good morning Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley. I wish you all a lovely day." Then, smirking, he swept past the Gryffindor trio, bumping his shoulder against Harry's with much less force than usual, leaving his friends to hurry after him.

They heard Pansy Parkinson's harshly whispered "What the fuck was that, Draco?"

"Just keeping Potter on his toes." Came the aristocratic drawl as they turned the corner. "Can't be predictable."

"Slimy git," Ron stated, as though that restored the world to a state of equilibrium, and they headed off to class.

The odd behaviour continued as they once again, and rather suspiciously, reached the Great Hall for lunch at the same time as the three Slytherins.

"My apologies, please," Draco swept his hand out in a gesture for them to precede him into the hall, which they rather reluctantly did, expecting a curse upon their backs at any moment. Zabini and Parkinson were snickering, obviously now in on the "joke" and Harry felt just as disconcerted as Ron and Hermione, and rather relieved that they didn't share any classes with the Slytherins today.

oOo

'What was that about? You were…odd today.' Harry typed, as he sat in his common room that evening.

'Can't imagine what you mean, since we haven't the faintest idea who the other is. So how was your day? Enjoy your classes? Get all your homework done yet?'

'Yes, well, if the person whose identity I certainly DO know wouldn't suddenly behave so oddly, it would be a lot easier not to associate him with a person who's identity I do NOT know. And in answer to your other questions, yes, my day was surprisingly good, my classes all went smoothly, and I haven't even started my homework yet. My friend is pestering me about it, but it's still nice out, and I want to go outside.'

If he went out now, he could get some good photographs of the lake as the sky went golden toward sunset. He grabbed his phone and his camera and went out. The evening was beautiful, the weather warm enough that he was comfortable in just his coat and scarf, and there were no other students to mar the peace and silence. He walked along the edge of the lake, camera slung around his neck, and felt a sense of peace and well-being wash over him. He lifted his camera and took a picture. The giant squid lifted it's tentacles above the black surface of the lake, and he knew the gilded clouds, the rippling water, and the sinuous movement of the tentacles, would make a perfect picture. He grinned, well satisfied with himself. He found a large rock to sit on, and relaxed into the perfect moment. His phone vibrated.

'I'm still thinking about you in the shower. Water dripping down your body. It's a very pretty picture.'

Harry's good mood must have prompted what he said next, there was no other explanation.

'Or…what about a bath? Do you know the Prefect's bath? What if, say, a certain mysterious Gryffindor was there at, say, 12:30 tonight, under the 'dissimulo' spell?'

The answer was quick. 'I think perhaps a certain mysterious Slytherin would find himself there as well, being the dirty boy he is, and certainly in need of a bath.'

Harry sat for some while longer, his happy face slowly sliding into an expression of shock at what he'd just done.

oOo

Harry waited for the dorm to go quiet, sitting on his bed, nervously sliding his invisibility cloak through his hands. He was sweating with nervous tension, it was even worse than the first time they had met. He cursed his giddy good spirits that had prompted this ridiculous behaviour. At least he couldn't be accused of not being a bold Gryffindor, providing he could actually follow up on his earlier invitation and MAKE it to the prefects bath. Finally, he could put it off no longer without being late. Grabbing his bag, he threw the cloak over himself and crept out of his room, down the stairs, and out the portrait hole. Nervous anticipaton sped his steps, and he found himself outside of the prefects baths at precisely 12:29. Nervously, he spoke the password, and went in.

The bathroom was empty. Stripping off his cloak, he stuffed it into his bag. Heart racing, he cast 'dissimulo', and then stripped off his clothes, feeling horribly naked and exposed as he bent and turned on the taps with his preferred bubbles, filling the bath with steaming, deliciously scented bubbles, and slipping into he water. He swam under the surface from one end of the bath to the other, and came up gasping for air, tossing the water out of his eyes. He nearly jumped out of his skin to see a silent figure lounging against the wall, a smirk on his determinedly unfamiliar features. As he watched, heart thumping so hard he felt it must be audible to his companion, Harry watched as the figure began to undress. Slowly, teasingly, he began with his tie, loosening it, then pulling it off, slowly undoing the buttons on his white shirt, letting it fall open to reveal a lean unfamiliar-familiar torso, then sliding it off his shoulder to drop on the floor at his feet. Long, well-formed fingers slid down to his trousers, undoing the buttons, then toeing off his shoes, letting his trousers fall, stepping out of them, bending over to pull off the socks, one by one. Harry, suddenly overcome, turned his back, unable to watch another moment, until he heard him slide into the water, letting out a small gasp at the heat. Harry let out a shaky breath, and turned, to find the other boy much closer than he'd expected, within arms reach, watching him.

"Hey." Harry said, shakily. "Fancy meeting you here."

He gasped as he felt himself pulled into a strong hug, the other's body, wet and slippery with soap, pressed against his. Lips against his neck, his ear.

"I missed you."

Harry pulled back a moment, but whatever he might have said was lost as he felt lips on his. He responded without thought, deepening the kiss, his own hands threading into the still dry hair, pulling him closer. His companion's hands slid down his back, then one crept between them, and Harry moaned, throwing his head back, at the intensity of the pleasure. Another hand threaded into his hair, gripping fiercely, and sending electric jolts straight to Harry's groin, intensify the heady pleasure. He was pulled into a kiss, and so they remained. Touching, kissing, moaning and gasping into each other's mouths, as they were brought to a mutual release. They stayed like that for a long time after, foreheads still touching, a hand still threaded into Harry's hair, languorous kisses in between catching their breaths, as their heart rates slowed.

"That was…" Harry had no words to explain what he felt.

"Yeah."

"We should…bath?"

"We are."

"No, I mean-" Before he could finish, Harry found himself tackled under the water. He came up gasping and sputtering, ready to yell, but the other had taken advantage of the moment to pour shampoo from one of the taps into his hands and attacked Harry's hair. Whatever he'd been about to say was lost in the pleasurable sensation of someone else washing his hair. Someone who apparently had a bit of an obsession with his hair. Someone who…but if he thought about that too much it would lead to Reality making an appearance, so he shoved the thought away, and gave himself to enjoyment.

They washed each other's hair, and Harry found himself enjoying being on the giving end just as much as the receiving, feeling the silky strands running through the fingers, and enjoying the way the other boy's eyes closed in blissful enjoyment, and the throaty moan.

Then they washed each other's bodies, a much longer and frequently distracting task, since they kept stopping to focus on certain areas for prolonged periods. At last, clean, exhausted, and beginning to get a bit cold, they got out, drying themselves vigorously before, reluctantly, dressing. They stood for a moment, and Harry felt unsure again.

"Well. Goodnight then."

His companion grinned, a hint of mockery in his tone as he said, "What? Not even a kiss goodnight?"

The kiss turned into a minutes-long make out, before Harry finally could grab his bag and head off to his own common room, resisting the urge to go back for one more hug, one more kiss.

He was walking down the hall, a foolish grin on his face, when the cat he'd barely registered suddenly, horribly, became Professor McGonagall, staring down at him, a frown on her stern face.

Damn. He'd completely forgotten he had the cloak with him.

"_Finite Incantatum_!" He felt the spell wash over him, removing the _dissimulo_ spell.

"Mr. Potter! I suppose you have an explanation for this."

"I…wanted a bath?"

"It is after curfew, Mr. Potter. You should have taken care of that earlier in the evening. You are not a prefect, and you have no right to be out of the dorm room at this time. I will escort you back, and take 20 points from Gryffindor for this. Please do not force me to do this again."

Harry followed, attempting to look meek and apologetic, but he couldn't help the rather dazed grin that kept creeping back onto his face. Surely it was pitifully obvious what he had been up to, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

oOo

Draco walked past Harry, bumping his shoulder against his in his usual obnoxious way, but Harry found himself stopping and closing his eyes against the rush of arousal that hit him at the familiar combination of soap scents he'd been smelling on himself since last night, combined with Draco's own personal scent.

"Wow, Harry, you are getting really good at controlling your temper," Hermione said, approvingly, "I'm really proud of you for not responding to his taunting."

"Yeah, mate," Ron agreed. "It's great how you just ignore him. He'll get really annoyed if you keep doing that."

oOo

Author's Note:

'Talking to you has become something of a habit' (from chapter 7) is Draco Malfoy for "I can't quit you." Hehhehhhehehe. Chapter 9 was the shortest yet, because I wanted to get something POSTED, but I have tried to make up for it today with something closer to my aim of 2000+ words per chapter, as well as some more Drarry-ness. I don't get extremely explicit with the sex scenes in this fic, but my short fic "The Club Case" has such a scene, if that is of interest. I'm quite proud of it.

Yours,

Loony Luiny


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: The Importance of Being Invisible

Several weeks passed, in which Harry did his very best to pretend he had no idea who the (wonderful, intriguing, familiar) person he talked to every spare moment of every day really that the (sexy, skillful, so damn good with his hands) unfamiliar stranger he was meeting as often as possible in every spare moment was NOT the same person who still went out of his way to antagonize Harry at every possible moment. To be sure, Draco had all but stopped taunting Hermione and Ron entirely, now focusing nearly all of his attention on Harry. And he'd taken up such a clever new tactic of extremely overt politeness, so over the top as to be mocking, especially when accompanied by a chorus of Slytherin cackles.

"Ah, excuse me, my _dear_ Mr Potter! I did not see you there! Please allow me to pull out your chair for you." And then that damned smirk, and those grey eyes staring right into Harry's, taunting, teasing, challenging.

"My word, Mr Potter, my dear sir! I've run _straight_ into you again. Please allow me to help you to your feet. I'm terribly clumsy, I simply cannot apologize enough!" Ron was especially infuriated by this new tactic, while Hermione insisted, without ever for a moment believing it herself, that this was simply the Slytherin's attempt at turning over a new leaf and a display of newfound maturity.

And yet, any attempt from Harry to question this behaviour in their regular text conversations was met with complete denial about their knowledge of each other's identity, and therefor, of what Harry could possibly be referring to. And so the conversations remained wonderful, and despite the nagging voice that occasionally reminded him he was talking to MALFOY, a person who certainly could NOT be trusted, Harry found himself baring his soul to him, and Dra-,that is, the mystery text friend, returned in kind, with frequent complaints about his parents, problems with his friends, stories from his childhood, and both of them even touched on their trauma from the war, though there they always kept things rather vague, focusing on the outcome and effects rather than the specific incidents.

And Harry was happy. Mostly. It was nearly like having a relationship. A boyfriend. The kind of relationship he hadn't ever really thought he could have. Nearly.

oOo

"Mr Potter!" Draco swept a deep, courtly bow.

"Ponce," Ron's sneer was worthy of a Slytherin, and Harry found himself a little ashamed of his friend. Draco didn't seem to hear, however. He simply stood and beamed at Harry as though he was his very best and oldest friend who had only just returned from a long time away.

"And your charming companions! Ms Granger, you are looking particularly lovely today. What fetching robes."

"They're school robes, Malfoy." Ron looked down his nose at him, the titters of the surroundings Slytherins rose in pitch.

"And Mr Weasley, your…hair…is very…" Malfoy trailed off, his face a mask of polite embarrassment, as he made a show of searching for an appropriate compliment, despite the OBVIOUS impossibility of such a thing in regard to Ron Weasley. "attached…to your head!" He beamed, pleased at his ability to save the potentially awkward social moment. "Come along Pansy, Blaise. Farewell my dear Gryffindors, I look forward to seeing you once again in Potions class!"  
The three nonplussed Gryffindors watched the smirking, giggling Slytherins out of sight.

"He's gotten SO. Much. Worse." Ron moaned. "I never thought I'd say it, but I miss the days he just insulted us, our parents, and our entire lineage."

"I think you may be right." Hermione agreed, "particularly lovely" still at the forefront of her thoughts.

"I just can't figure out what his angle is. I mean…he's gotta be leading up to something foul. Yes. That's it! He's going to pull a massive prank on us."

"Pretty sure this is the prank." Harry said, quickly, wanting to change the subject. "Anyway, did you finish the reading for potions? I totally-"

"You're changing the subject!" Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry, and Hermione's gaze sharped. "What do you know?"

"I don't know anything! Draco's just being a git! As usual!"

"Draco?" Hermione tilted her head to one side, and Harry cursed the slip.

"Yeah. You know, Draco Malfoy? That blond bloke who's really annoying and just talked to us about 5 minutes ago?"

"Uh…Harry…you don't believe him, do you? You know he's not sincere, right?" Ron looked nervous. "You aren't…actually considering becoming friends with him or anything?"

Harry hadn't been, not in the way Ron meant at least, but…

"Well, the war_ is_ over. Maybe not friends, but I don't see the point in holding on to these old grudges. If he's going to be nice, I saw we do the same."

"But, Harry?!" Ron looked as scandalized as if Harry had just recommended they hold nude salsa dance classes with McGonagall.

"You mean it?" Hermione merely looked skeptical. "You actually would let go of all those insults? Death threats? The time he almost emkilled/em Ron?"

"He called Hermione a mudblood! For years! He said she should die in second year with that Chamber of Secrets-"

"But that's in the past," Harry interrupted, then spread his hands wide and smile magnanimously, "And if he's being so polite, the _least_ we can do is answer in kind." He stared meaningfully at his friends. Hermione caught on first.

"Ohhh!"

Ron took only a moment longer, and his face spread into an answering grin. "Ohhhhh!"

"That's right," said Harry, "we will out NICE him."

oOo

"Draco! How's your day going?"

The moment of stunned silence and the looks of absolute, open-mouthed shock on the face of every single person in the room but Harry, Ron, and Hermione, were a delight to behold. Draco, standing frozen where he stood with Harry, who's arm was draped over Draco's shoulder, looked panicked for a moment, before responding by throwing his own arm around Harry's waist.

"Absolutely excellent! And yours,_ Harry?_" He emphasized the name.

"Better now that I'm in a class with _you_, my friend!" Harry said, so jovially and with so many vigorous pats to Draco's back that the Gryffindors began to catch on, titters rising around them.

"Indeed, friend," Draco responded by jerking Harry closer and digging his fingers almost painfully into Harry's side. A rush of heat and electric energy pooled in Harry's core, and he covered his rising awareness with more vigorous back pats.

"I hope you had luck with your homework?"

"I did! Thank you so much for asking! And you, my dear Harry?"

"Well enough, though there was that section on obscure uses of Murtlap essence that I couldn't quite get the grasp of.

"Oh! That is no problem. You may borrow my notes!" Draco reached with his free hand, and picked up the notes and handed them to Harry, his eyes meeting his with an intensity and challenge that Harry could not fail to meet.

At that moment, the classroom door opened with a bang and Professor Snape strode into the room, robes, as usual, swirling dramatically behind him. He stopped short at the sight of Harry and Draco nearly wrapped around each other in something very like an embrace.

"Mr…Pottah…" He drawled the words, looking down his hooked nose at Harry. "You will unhand Mr Malfoy and cease this disturbance of the class. 10 points from Gryffindor."

Draco dropped his arm, but Harry turned to Draco and, grinning widely, gave Draco a full, vigorous, extended, hug.

"Thank you for your kindness! It will not be forgotten!" With one last squeeze, Harry stepped away, finding his own desk, and pretending that the rising heat he felt was not a flaming blush that might give away the way he'd responded to the feeling of Draco's body against his.

Snape stared, his sneer replaced for a single fleeting moment by an expression of honest confusion.

oOo

The door to the Prefect's bath opened, and Harry turned from where he'd been fiddling with the taps, already in the bath and waiting. The unfamiliar figure stood for a long moment, watching Harry.

"Hey." Harry broke the silence at last, the usual comfort he felt at their meetings dispersing as the other said nothing. "Why are you just looking at me like that?"

It wasn't like there was a point, after all. There would be no details to remember. Was he mad about Harry's behaviour? That would be pretty fucking hypocritical, considering he was the one who insisted on not bringing daily life into this other part of their lives. The silent perusal continued, and Harry began to feel exposed and uncomfortable. "What?" He snapped, finally.

"Nothing," the other drawled, finally getting down to the business of removing his own clothes before joining Harry in the bath. He moved closer to Harry, but didn't touch him, still staring at Harry with an intensity that was almost familiar, especially when Harry put that intensity into a pair of grey eyes in his mind. He finally reached out, and ran his hands gently over Harry's chest, moving around to his shoulders, brushing across his jawline, digging into his hair. When he leaned in for a kiss, it was slow, searching, and gentle, some new element there that Harry couldn't place. But he liked it. He responded in kind, and the intensity between them built slowly, but continued on and on and on.

Harry closed his eyes, his mind filling in the sensation of the person in his arms with the memory of hugging Draco in Potion's class. This, here, may be spell-altered, but if he kept his eyes closed, the images blended perfectly. Draco. The name was in his mind, repeated over and over, only to be replaced with something more vague when he opened his eyes. So, he kept them closed, and just felt the hands all over him, touching him with an urgency that provoked and answering urgency in him.

Harry's orgasm was one of the most intense he had ever experienced. They stood for a long time in the warm, scented water, foreheads pressed together, the other's hand still twined in Harry's hair, as their breathing slowed.

Harry felt an ache in his chest. A longing. He wanted to tell Draco to just take the damned spell of and stop pretending already. Harry stayed in the bath after he was alone, to think. And to resist the temptation of just taking the damn spells off the moment they were dressed and just talking this all through! He wanted to demand Draco look at him, see HIM, Harry, and ask him if there was a chance Draco could still like him, want to be close to him, talk to him, touch him, kiss him, if he could really see him.

Finally, though, the lateness of the hour demanded he get out and go find his bed. He dressed slowly and grabbed his cloak, turning to the mirror as he swung it over his shoulders to check that he was fully covered.

He let the cloak slip from his hands, staring into the mirror at his own, very familiar face.

He had forgotten to use the spell.

oOo

OOOOPS Harry, you careless boy!

Also apologies if you saw this chapter in it's wierd form when I first posted. Does that every time. I guess I should probably figure out those formatting issues...

Thank you once again for reading, and let me know all your many and no doubt extremely positive opinions by leaving a review!

Yours,

Loony Luiny


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